


Maiden and the Two-headed Eagle

by arcticviolet



Series: Runes of Tino Väinämöinen [3]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 19th Century, Angst, Coming of Age, Enemies to Friends to Lovers to Enemies again, Friendship, Hetalia Countries Using Human Names, Historical Hetalia, Historical References, Nationalism, Romance, Russian Empire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:02:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 81,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26447509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcticviolet/pseuds/arcticviolet
Summary: Tides of history have drifted him away from Sweden, broke apart their six centuries long connection. Tino learns his place under rule of another empire and finds his new lord is not a cruel one he expected.And he has to learn where his land stands, who he is, as nationalism rises all over Europe and Ivan's engulfing grasp around him keeps tightening.
Relationships: Finland/Russia (Hetalia), Lithuania/Poland (Hetalia)
Series: Runes of Tino Väinämöinen [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1922575
Comments: 31
Kudos: 42





	1. Chapter 1

It will soon be the 6th of June.

The garden of Stockholm Palace is blooming vivaciously, the flowers’ there of various colors at their best tide for blossom. The place has been taken care to its finest, as the court will soon celebrate the crowning of first Gustav Vasa, the man who liberated the kingdom from Denmark in the 16th century.

Tino wanders on the paths between the thick shrubberies, admiring all the gracefulness the garden offers. Of all the buildings and places of royalty the city has, he is most fond of this one.

“Knew I’d find you here” a familiar voice calls behind him. Tino smiles as he turns around.

“Should probably hide in the bush next time” he says as his eyes meet Berwald’s.

“I’d still find you, were it the deepest forest there is or the highest mountain of the world. I always will” the tall swede’s gaze on him is full of affection.

“So we will never be apart?” Tino asks gently, returning that tender look.

When he’s with the tall swede, he feels only safe and content, wherever they are. Despite his land, his people being considered inferior in their kingdom, he knows Berwald doesn’t see him any less than equal. Their bond is so strong, nothing could ever break it. 

But Berwald’s expression takes a sudden turn to distress, the look in his eyes now full of grief. And the gentle summer day surrounding them changes in a blink. The blow of the wind rises, the force of it turning furious in seconds as dark clouds gloom in the sky. Something cold lands on his face and soon the falling snow is all around. Tino wonders _how on earth can it snow in June?_

His thoughts get interrupted as he feels some strong, heavy force behind him. That is starting to pull him backwards. He tries to struggle against it, but it’s too powerful. He can’t fight it alone. Tino looks pleadingly at his companion, but Berwald only stands in his place, looking at him miserably. And does nothing to help him.

“Berwald… I can’t- _don’t let it take me-!_ ” Tino tries to shout after him as the force pulls him further and further... And then it yanks him backwards and the Finn feels himself falling.

He jolts awake with a gasp.

 _Another nightmare._ Tino thinks as he rises. It’s still pitch dark, the morning at its very early hours. In winter, the sun rises late in the north so he knows it will likely take long before the dawn. He looks out from the window, at the glowing snow, it’s faint dim the only thing lighting up the scenery.

His dreams have been mostly nightmares lately. But he is never relieved once he wakes from them. As every time he does, he’s still in St.Petersburg.

**_January 1809, St. Petersburg_ **

“Tino, are you there?”

It’s Eduard at his door again. Ever since he was taken here, the Estonian seemed to have taken it as his duty to look after him and keep him informed of all that occurred in his lands now. Or perhaps Ivan had just tasked Eduard with the job. Tino wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case.

“Yes… what is it?” he finally answers with a faint voice.

“It’s… Russia. He is asking you to come down to the drawing room. There is something he wants to talk about with you. Personally”

“What if I don’t want to talk to him?” This last month he’s spent here, he has avoided any communication with the russian, only doing the formal greetings and negotiations required. It was his silent way of rebelling.

“It was not a request”

 _Of course it wasn’t._ “I’ll be there… in a moment”

  
  


He stretches ‘the moment’ as long as he dares to before going downstairs. The drawing room of Ivan’s house is grand and beautiful, the walls of it decorated with paintings of wilderness and landscapes of russian countryside, portraits of some noblemen and royals among them as well. The walls, floor and furniture of it are copper brown, the style of them the typical russian baroque. Ivan sits on a ruby red armchair near the fireplace, reading a letter.

“Please do come sit by the fire, I’m sure it’s much more comfortable than standing there cold” he says without taking his eyes off his reading. 

Part of Tino wants to stay where he is, just out of stubbornness and will to sneer at the Russian, but doesn’t think it will do anything more than amuse the other.

He goes to take the seat on the other chair, opposite of Ivan’s.

“What is it you wanted to speak to me about?” it’s hard to keep himself from being snappish.

“Of your future. In my empire”

The finn feels slightly threatened, but does his best not to show it. “Isn’t it… a little uncertain still? From what I understand, your war with Sweden is not yet-”

“Yes, the war with Sweden is not quite finished yet, but your part in it over and your fate rather set up already” there is now a slight, but notable pressure in his voice. Tino doesn’t dare to push further.

“So… it’s something we’d need to discuss, eventually. And sooner better than later” he shows then the Finn the letter he had been reading. Tino recognizes the tsar’s stamp on it. “It is from Alexander I himself. You see, your delegation of Estates have already accepted this new rule and pledged loyalty to my tsar. The Diet will be arranged in March”

The tsar had really wasted no time with taking Finland under his control. The war was not even properly over yet and they already had a date set to decide his future for good. Though Tino had understood that Sweden was losing, a part of him had held on to the wish that the kingdom could still, somehow, reclaim his lands ( _that Berwald had not given up on him_ ). But now, he is starting to understand he’s truly not going back.

“And Alexander, he made quite a generous offer if I may say”

“What will happen to my lands… to me?”

“An autonomy”

Tino’s eyes widen. Did he hear it right? “Could you… clarify?”

“Of course. It means, you will be kind of a self-governing independent duchy in my empire. You may keep your old laws, religion and privileges. You’ll have own administration who’ll answer to my tsar”

Tino swallows. It is… far more sovereignty than he’s ever had with Sweden. It sounds almost too good to be true.

“This is not another trick is it?” he looks sharply at Ivan, still remembering well what happened last time Ivan had promised something of such.

“I swear, it’s not. Alexander I is far more… honorable ruler. And quite a reformist for a tsar”

The look in the Russian's eyes is intense, as he is trying to prove the truth in his words with his gaze. And for once, Tino believes him. He is already strictly under russian rule now, there is really no sense for Ivan or his tsar to lie about this.

“Well then… where is it where the Diet will be held?”

**_March 1809, Porvoo_ **

There has never happened something this grand in this small city.

The tsar and his escort head to Porvoo on a sunny, cold day of March. Alexander I’s personal carriage is followed by the one carrying the representation of his empire. And in there, Tino as well.

The ride to the city from harbour is quiet. Ivan had questioned if he still remembered the formalities, his role in the ceremony. Tino had repeated the rehearsed lines, a bit annoyed at how the Russian thought there would be need to polish him up like this. He had learned all about this for centuries with Sweden. He knows exactly how to play this role.

He sees dozens of his people as they pass, they get more numerous as they come closer to the city. They all share the curious eyes and excited expressions. This might be the most thrilling event they’ll ever have in the town. Tino sees no resentment nor spite, that what he still feels, from them at their new ruler.

When they reach the port of the city, cannon gunshots echo with the ring of the bells as their greeting.

The ceremony begins next morning. Alexander I walks from his residence to the cathedral on a wooden lane, built just for this event and only for the tsar to walk on. Only Ivan is allowed to walk with him on it. Tino wanders not far behind them, by the lane.

His people seem enchanted by the tsar, all of them bowing when he passes and their eyes full of adoration. Tino they don’t regard much, likely not recognizing him and thinking him as another russian convoy perhaps. Only the higher lords of the town are aware of his identity and they give him knowing nods when their eyes meet. Tino doesn’t feel that much bothered with not being noticed, it is after all very familiar for him from his previous life.

For a moment Ivan turns to look behind, giving the Finn a tender smile. Tino supposes it is meant to be some kind of encouragement. He doesn’t return it, but regards the ashen haired man with a small nod nonetheless.

As they reach the church, the organ accompanies their entrance.

Alexander I stands on a podium, by a throne brought in just for the event. He looks gracious, his demeanor both confident and respectful. A perfect image of a fit ruler. No wonder all people in Porvoo are so smitten with him already.

The tsar begins his speech.

“... _and under the tsardom of Russia, Grand Duchy of Finland shall rise to a nation among other nations!_ ”

Ivan looks at him with intent and Tino steps forward, feeling the eyes of all the people present on him now. If anyone here had unclarity who he was, they know surely now. His heart beats loud in his ears, nerves tingling him all over. And yet, the nervousness is nothing compared to the pride he feels when he gets in front of the tsar and bows. _A nation among other nations._

In the evening, a glorious ball is held as celebration.

Men in black and white suits, women dressed in their finest dresses and shining jewelry as they dance to the sound of the orchestra at the background. Tino has attended several this grand events like this through the years, but never here, at his homeland.

“Wonderful, isn’t it?” Ivan had appeared next to him as out of nowhere. The Russian never fails to catch him by surprise. “My tsar is very generous, don’t you think?”

“I will only say that when I actually get to see how he rules” the finn answers, looking at the taller personification with intent. _Yours or his pretty talk is not enough to buy off my loyalty._ Ivan catches a drink both for him and the Finn from a servant that passes them.

“I don’t think you will be disappointed”

“We shall see” he takes the offered glass. “Don’t think I will be all smitten and wiped off my feet as my people in this town from one well acted play”

“I wouldn’t count on that, ever, not with _you_ ” Ivan’s smile is nearly fawning. “And to be honest… I’m not sure which one here is more smitten, your people or my tsar”

The Finn looks at him in doubt and Ivan nods to the dance floor, to where Alexander is. He is in the middle of a waltz routine, in his arms the local governor’s young daughter. The man looks like he’s enchanted with her.

Tino is not entirely sure how he feels about it: he is somewhat proud that the great tsar seems so taken by one of _his_ people. But there is also the fierce protectiveness, the want to keep that child of his well away from any russian hands, a tsar or not.

“You have no need to worry. Alexander is a man of honor, including his manner with ladies” Ivan seemed to have catched on to his mood quickly. “Ease your mind, Tino. Tonight you should rejoice, as you are now a nation among nations!”

The finn flinches when he hears his private name spoken from his conqueror. “Don’t say that. I might be an autonomous duchy now, but it is still a duchy”

Ivan shrugs. “As you like”

“And one more thing… Only _friends_ call me by my name” deciding he’s had enough of russian company for tonight, he turns around without waiting for Ivan’s response. Tino heads to a group of his own people, not caring the slightest if he offended the other personification with his act.

  
  


_The Diet of Porvoo lasts until July. In Sweden, king Gustav IV Adolf has renounced the crown, as a result of a successful coup from his own military officers. Now, the people of Finland have no longer obligations to their previous king and their loyalty to their new tsar is guaranteed. Alexander I promises to rule the land according to its old laws._

**_September 1809, Fredrikshamn_ **

_The new king of Sweden, Karl XIV is eager to negotiate for peace in spring, but the negotiations fail due to disagreements with the terms. Russia starts invading swedish soil, advancing from north through gulf of Bothnia and in south to Åland islands. In summer, British send a fleet of their Royal Navy to support its ally to stop russians from going further. One more time, swedes try a counterattack on their enemy in the north, but lose finally for good in the battle of Piteå._

He had known this would happen.

And yet, understanding the outcome beforehand does not make the event any less painful, does not ease the stinging ache in his chest. 

He and Ivan stand quietly in the background as representatives from Russia meet ones from Sweden. Berwald is not with them.

Tino wonders if it’s for better that he doesn’t see the swede right now, can’t see the hurt and the grief in his eyes as a piece of paper signed by men will decisively break their centuries long connection.

The finn keeps convincing himself it’s better this way, but it’s not enough to keep him from feeling disappointed with Berwald’s absence.

When it’s all said and done, the swedish side takes their leave. One of the representatives steps towards Tino.

“May I bid my personal farewells for the boy?” he questions Ivan.

“Of course” it’s Tino who answers, already walking out. He doesn’t even wait for Ivan’s response. Russia may rule him now, but he damn surely can decide his private conversations. The man looks baffled at the boy stomping away and then at the other personification, questioningly. Ivan only nods with a fawning smile. The man walks after Tino.

“I’d rather have signed my own death sentence than that treaty” the swedish count curses once they’re alone “It’s a shameful surrender! Giving up nearly third of the kingdom… your folk have been nothing, but loyal and this is how it is repaid…”

“There was… not much Sweden could have done anymore, was there? We’re only pawns in games of greater nations, after all...” Tino says with a forced smile. He despises how quickly he’s accepting this.

“ _Ja,_ I’m afraid so. Damn that Bonaparte, had he not been so intent on with blockading Britain this war might even not have happened... “

Tino sighs heavily. He could have never imagined the profound effect that the rise of Napoleon would have, that it would reach him too.

“I’ve learned that guessing alternative ways of history can, in the end, give us nothing but regret and bitterness” he says bitterly. The count looks at the boy in surprise, can’t help but marvel at hearing such wiseness from such a young face. Looking at him, it’s easy to forget this boy is centuries old in years. 

“Well, the only thing I can do now for you is wish you good luck, Grand Duchy of Finland” the man says, bowing slightly “There is one matter though I’d like to let you know”

Tino looks at him curiously.

“The spirit of my kingdom… he’s not here because he didn’t want to come. He was not allowed to” the swede tells him with a grave voice and walks away.

_Treaty of Fredrikshamn ends the Finnish war and Sweden officially cedes the land to Russia. The kingdom gives up as well its alliance to Britain, joining the Continental System against Great Britain._

**_April 1812, St.Petersburg_ **

Three years pass like a blink.

For the most of it, Ivan is away, at war with Turks, leaving the six of them at his house on their own. He has assigned them with various tasks, from paperwork to cleaning. It certainly does not leave them with too much leisure time. His sisters make sure they can’t slack off from their work. 

Tino learns his new role as autonomous duchy in the empire. It is strange, for all his centuries in Sweden, he had learned only to obey and now he is encouraged to take decisions of his own. It wasn't as if he had actual sovereignty - in the end, the final decision on a matter always came from Russia.

But still, it’s far more privilege he’s ever had before.

And when compared to other inhabitants in this house, he surely is privileged. There’s six of them here now and unlike his Grand Duchy, their states are only governorates. Eduard and Ravis, already having spent nearly a century in Russian empire. Ivan Braginski’s sisters, Natasha and Katyusha, had come to live with their brother again after the decline of Poland-Lithuanian Commonwealth’s power. Which was also why Toris Laurinaitis is here.

The once so powerful and prosperous union kingdom of Poland-Lithuania had met a miserable end. For years, it had crumbled under foreign invasions from all sides, leaving the land shredded and broken beyond repair. The greedy empires around it took their chance and feasted on the degrading kingdom. Three times Austria, Prussia and Russia allied to share the land among themselves. After the third time, there was Poland or Lithuania on the map anymore.

Toris Laurinaitis and Feliks Łukasiewicz had been torn apart cruelly. The Lithuanian had been taken here and the Pole left to tangle of Prussia and Austria after the last partition in 1795.

The two used to be one of the greatest rivals for him and Berwald, but now, all Tino feels for them is empathy. He if anyone knew how painful it was to be separated from a centuries long companion.

He was surprised how easy it was to get along with Toris. In his past life, he only knew the other from their wars, as the renowned Iron Wolf of Baltic. But with living under the same roof, he learned the lithuanian’s true nature: Toris might be one of the kindest personifications Tino has met, always looking after others and trying to maintain harmony in the house. He seemed to have taken as his duty to stand as some shield between his Baltic brothers and Russia. And had tried to extend that shield on Tino as well. The Finn had quickly made it clear the only person that could look after him here was himself.

Nonetheless, the friend he had found in the spirit of Lithuania, was a welcomed change.

“Toris, you seriously suggest I’m one of the Baltics now?” he asks as he gulps down his drink. Tonight was a rare occasion; a laidback evening, something that did not occur often in this house. Ivan had just arrived back in St.Petersburg and had been so pleasant with the clean house and his table empty of unfinished work that he had told them this evening they should just enjoy themselves. Tino had gladly decided that they should hold a drinking contest. The Baltics and the Slavs were all keen on.

“I’m just saying… you’re not exactly Scandinavian are you?” the Lithuanian says, a smile and blush from drinking already present.

“No, but I’m still as Nordic as them!”

“No, I think you’re something between” Eduard cuts in the middle. Ravis giggles next to him.

“Look, I’m flattered and all that you’re so eager to have me as your fourth brother, but I’m quite happy with what I am, alright?” Tino says and as he turns to look at the Estonian, he nearly falls from his chair.

“You do drink like a Slav though…” it’s Katyusha now who’s joined in the conversation.

“So now you want me as your brother? How am I so popular tonight-”

“We already have a brother, don’t need another one” Natasha interrupts his slurring sharply. “and all this talk of who we are is pointless. Because we’re all Russia’s now”

What follows is uncomfortable silence. What the Belarusian said was a fact they’d rather not remember. Something they just wanted to forget tonight.

“Shall… shall we perhaps play poker--” Toris suggests, but words get stuck in his throat as he sees the large figure at the doorway. All heads turn to look at Ivan and the relaxed atmosphere between them is gone in seconds.

“Finlandiya, sorry to interrupt your evening, there was something I wished to talk about” he says and Tino suddenly has his head much clearer as he tenses “I can of course let you know tomorrow as well”

“I’m… I’m good to talk now” whatever it is, better just hear it and get it done right away.

“Well then, follow me” Ivan says as he walks away. Unstably, Tino gets up and before he trails after the Russian, Eduard catches his wrist.

“Don’t do or say anything stupid just because you’re drunk” he says, knowing very well how easily his friend can rile up when intoxicated.

“And what makes you think I’d do that?” Tino smiles mischievously. “I won’t, I promise”

“You better” the estonian squeezes him gently before he lets go.

Ivan holds the door open into his workroom for the finn who steps in with both confidence and caution. It was admirable, how hard the boy always tried to mask his insecurity with defiance. He was one of the few that could almost convince him.

“So… what I wanted to speak about, was of your capital”

“Of _Åbo?_ ”

“Yes, I have discussed with Alexander, we think it’d be better for your capital to locate nearer to St.Petersburg” _and further from Sweden_ “and we find Helsinki to be quite fit option”

“That’s… alright, I guess” the Finn eyes him with suspicion.

“The city has great defense with that grand sea fortress. And its location is on good trading routes of the empire”

“I don’t… hold anything against it really” the boy still seems in doubt though.

“I plan to make the city thrive. As your whole Grand Duchy” Ivan wants to show he has only good intentions. And needs Finland to take both physical and mental distance from his previous kingdom. He might hide it, but it’s clear he’s still holding on “And I thought, as you are autonomous land in my empire, it’d be proper if you had your own house there”

Now, finally, the Finn seems genuinely interested. His eyes nearly shine. But Ivan doesn’t want to make him believe in any false assumptions. “Your permanent place would of course be here. But as you are largely deciding your land’s affairs on your own, you do need a place when you stay in Helsinki for longer periods”

The smaller personification’s excitement does not falter. The poor boy hardly had this kind of privileges in Sweden, did he?

“Thank you, Russia” his eyes tell that his gratitude can only be genuine. Ivan feels warm with fondness. It’s the first time the spirit of Finland has shown something else than spite and suspicion at him.

“You’re free to continue your evening” he smiles at the northerner who nods to take his leave, nearly bouncing in excitement as he walks to the door.

“There’s one thing I’d like to ask in return” he calls after the other. Tino turns and already has that look of doubt returned “I have noticed you still write your papers in Swedish… why not write them in your own language instead?”

His expression takes another change, now to a surprise. “I… could do that. It would be quite nice actually” the Finn contemplates “was that all?”

“ _Da,_ that was all. Goodnight”

“Goodnight” the boy wastes no time walking out after that. Ivan smiles in satisfaction, knowing he has succeeded in guiding his new duchy to take his first step away from his past.

Tino still hears his swift heartbeat in his ears as he returns to the living room. The five personifications sit on the floor now, empty bottle sideways in the middle of them. They all have their eyes on him the moment he arrives.

“So… will he send you to Siberia now?” Natasha asks without a slightest change in her ever serious expression.

**_May 1812_ **

_For nearly six years, Russia had been in war against the Ottoman Empire over Moldavia and Wallachia, in order to secure its state at Balkan. The conflict comes to an end with the treaty of Bucharest and victorious for Russia: the tsardom gains Bessarabia, eastern side of Moldavia._

“I’m happy to announce to you we’ll have a new member to join our home” Ivan smiles widely and steps aside. A small boy with curly, messy brown hair hides behind him “Come now, Bessarabia, don’t be shy. Introduce yourself for your new family”

“H-hello” the tiny Slavic says quietly, the voice shivering with insecurity. 

“I see Bessarabia needs some time to adjust” the tall Russian sighs as the small boy keeps only looking at the floor “Finland, would you kindly take him to his room?”

Tino flinches slightly of suddenly being addressed, but nods swiftly “Follow me”

He gives the boy the warmest smile he can show and leads him upstairs.

As they walk in the room, there’s still only a silence lingering between them.

“Bessarabia, if I’m honest I do not know much about you. Your land I mean” Tino says gently, crouching down to the boy’s level “Could you tell me something?”

The child's eyes seem to shine up a bit. “I… I lived just with my brother Romania at first” he sounds so fond, yet sad when he speaks of his sibling. Tino understands then it has probably been very long since he has seen his brother. “And we spend a lot of time with Bulgaria and Hungary too! And then Poland started coming. There were a lot of wars over my lands, I can’t even remember most of it...“ he seems lost in his memories, eyes hazy. Just as Finland, the poor boy seemed to have been the battle ground for centuries between the greater nations. “Then I went to live with uncle Sadiq” or, how he became the vassal of Ottoman Empire “He was so cool! It was nice to live there, but I… I missed my brother a lot”

Tino smiles at him sympathetically. “You know, I miss someone too”

“You have a brother too?”

“No, but before coming here, I lived with Sweden for six centuries”

“I know him! He came to live with us for a while! I think he was hiding from Russia then…” Bessarabia explains eagerly. Tino remembers that as well. In the Great Northern War, king Karl XII did fled to Ottoman Empire with Berwald after his defeat in Poltava. “So he was… like a brother to you?”

The finn shakes his head. “No, for me he was… he was…” Tino finds himself surprised with the loss of words as he tries to define what their relationship had been. It had been a close friendship of course, but somehow that alone couldn’t really describe it. But it had not been exactly similar to a brotherhood either.

“He was… someone very special for me” Tino settles with that and doesn’t dare to think further.

  
  


**_June 1812_ **

_After its start in the treaty of Tilsit in 1807, the alliance of France and Russia had came to a rocky end. After gaining Western Galicia, previous polish land from Austria, Napoleon created a Polish state as another french satellite in its place. Russia sees the act against its interests and as a threat. The tsardom pulls out of Continental System against Britain._

_The already frail alliance had quickly turned to hostility. And as Napoleon had done all over in Europe successfully before, he attempts to bend Russia to his will with military invasion. To provide political context and gain favour of poles, he calls his campaign the Second Polish War._

Only 12 years after the partitions, Poland had risen from his ashes. The Polish people, scattered around Europe, became Revolutionists fighting in Napoleon’s ranks. Their efforts had been acknowledged with the founding of Duchy of Warsaw, a client state in French Empire. It was no independent kingdom, but pride of Poland had been resurrected.

And now, Feliks Łukasiewicz is on his way to attack Russian Empire in the ranks of Napoleon’s _Grande Armée._

A letter, addressed to ‘Russia and all its subjects’ had arrived soon after France’s declaration. 

_The Phoenix has risen_

_And the Europe’s greatest beast will fly with it_

_Your Empire will Burn_

Tino hadn’t been sure who had written the threatening words if it wasn’t for the short note at the end: _By the way, I’m totally going to take back Toris!_

Ivan burns the letter in the fireplace that same night. They all sit quietly in their places, not daring to say a word. Tino thinks he sees the spirit of Lithuania smiling when it’s sure he’s not in any line of the russian’s eyes.

  
  


The atmosphere in the house has turned tense. Or, tenser than it had already been. In Russia’s house, the mood never seems fully serene. Ivan doesn’t bring up the topic of the war at all, just continues on with their lives as if nothing out of the ordinary was not going to happen. But every single one of them is aware of the coming storm in the horizont, just waiting for it to fall on them. But Ivan doesn’t say a word about it so neither do they.

Until Toris does.

It is during the dinner of one evening, the time when usually they all are gathered at the same time at the same place, a habit that Ivan seems to regard highly of.

“What will you do when Napoleon attacks?”

The question breaks the illusion of idyllic and all seem to be holding their breaths before Ivan answers.

“Retreat”

The silence lingers on. Toris looks at him in doubt. “Just… that?”

“Yes. You do not need to worry about St.Petersburg. You are safe here. It is for sure Moscow where french will attack, I shall accompany my soldiers there”

“But what if the invasion… succeeds?” the Lithuanian barely dares to say the last word out loud.

“He won’t succeed” Ivan’s voice is full of confidence “The fool… trying to invade Moscow… _Finlandiya_ , why don’t you tell us what happened last time when another fool attempted that?”

Tino nearly jumps when Ivan suddenly brings him in the conversation.

He remembers very well the famous warrior king Karl XII and his failure in the Great Northern War. It had been the beginning of the end for Swedish Empire. “He lost half of his army before the major battle had even started. And never reached Moscow”

Ivan smiles at the finn, proud and pleased, before turning his attention back on Toris. “You see? There is nothing to worry about. Because we have an even greater ally than all our soldiers, guns and horses. He watches over my land and will crush our enemies under his frost fist”

_Napoleon and his great army of nearly 700,000 men, started the French invasion of Russia in June 1812. Through a series of long marches he pushes his advance through western Russia, winning minor engagements and one major battle of Smolensk. But Russian army managed to slip away and retreat, burning everything behind. In September French and its allies caught up with the enemy and managed to attain a narrow victory in the battle of Borodino. But the Russians withdraw once again and Napoleon chases them all the way to Moscow, only to find it empty and burning. For a month he waits there for a surrender that never comes. Having no choice but to retreat, French begin their long way home. On the journey, they face the full wrath of General Winter. Further losses result in battles and when the campaign ends in December, only 27 000 of the soldiers in French lines return._

The sound of the front door being thrown open startles all of them, gathered in the drawing room. Natasha is the first one who stands up, hurrying to the hallway. Katyusha follows her soon after. The rest of them glance at each other knowingly, very aware of who has returned. But with what news, was a reason for concern. 

Ivan stands on the doorway, smiling in content as he sees all his subjects there to welcome him home. But he is now paler and so much leaner, his whole demeanor worn out. But the way he smiles, proves that his presumption of the outcome had been right.

“I told you didn’t I… no one invades Russia in winter” he says with a ragged voice, collapsing only seconds after. His sisters rush to his side right away.

“Don’t just stand there, bring some vodka and prepare him a hot bath immediately!!” Natasha yells at the rest of them who had only frozen after the man fell. They have never seen Ivan in so frail state after all. Toris and other Baltics take the task of heating up water and preparing the bathroom. 

“Come with me, Aurel. Let’s find the medicine for him” Tino says as he takes hold of Bessarabia’s tiny hand. ‘The medicine’ is no other than russian vodka, which Ivan always has bottles of stored at his premises.

**_1813_ **

_After the failure of Napoleon’s campaign in Russia, Prussia saw its chance to break off the alliance with France and joined the anti-French coalition of the United Kingdom, Russia, Sweden, Portugal and Spain. And not long after, Austria followed. France had now just its few satellite states, kingdom of Italy, kingdom of Naples and duchy of Warsaw, as its support and only Denmark-Norway remaining as its ally._

_In spring 1813, members of the Sixth Coalition began their campaign to liberate the Confederation of Rhine, the German satellite state in French Empire. After the Coalition’s victorious battle in Leipzig, Sweden moves its focus back to the North. The kingdom’s regent of the time, Jean Bernadotte, the future king who’d be known as Charles XIV John, had condition for Sweden’s alliance in the Coalition: gaining Norway. Britain, Russia and later Prussia as well all agree to his claim. In December, Bernadotte’s troops attack Danish army in Holstein._

**_1814_ **

It didn’t take long for news of the treaty _of Kiel_ to reach Saint Petersburg.

Tino found about it the way he learned of any happenings in the world now: in the drawing room of Russia’s house. Twice a week, Ivan gathered them around there and he’d read out loud about current events going around the world. It was distressing, knowing of only what Russia _wanted_ them to know of. But for now, he was their only connection to the world outside and that was what they’d have to do with.

He had his suspicions of this happening already before, back when he was still with Sweden. Karl XIV wasn’t the first king who had wanted Norway to join the kingdom. And sometimes, Tino thought he saw Berwald looking at Lukas with slight longing. Was it caused by the kingdom’s aspiration or personal yearning, he doesn’t know. Whatever it was, it had caused him a strange sting in his chest and feeling of bitterness he never understood.

And now, as Ivan speaks of it truly becoming true, _the ceding of Norway to Sweden_ , the pain in his chest stings so much he loses his breath for a moment. Black spots blur his vision and he feels faint.

“Tino, are you alright?”

Eduard had catched on the Finn's paled face. He had quickly turned his attention on his friend, understanding this news might upset Tino. And he had been right: the Finn looked like he had forgotten how to breathe.

“Excuse me, mister Russia. Sorry, but could you let me take Tin… Finland to his room for a while? I think he might be ill”

“Of course. Take as long as you need. Livonia, would you kindly give your friends a summary from what follows later on?”

“Y-yes! I will take this duty!” Ravis answers, voice shaking.

Eduard helps him up, arm on his back and walks him upstairs. With every step Tino feels his senses tingling back.

“Well.... that was embarrassing” Tino says, trying to laugh. He only manages a forced smile.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of” Eduard sits on the chair, turned towards Tino who lies on the bed on his back. He’s no longer dizzy, just exhausted. “You were… a bit more surprised of the news than you expected”

“No matter how surprised I was it shouldn’t have made me nearly faint…”

“Yeah, that was… unexpected. But understandable. I mean, you were with Sweden… god, how many centuries? Of course it will upset you he’s already going to live with someone else”

 _He wants Norway now._ His own thoughts taunt him, but he doesn’t say them out loud. 

“But why? There were five of us back in Kalmar Union. And you and Ravis used to live with us too. It’s just the way of life, for beings like us… It shouldn’t be that unsettling”

“But for you and Berwald… it was a bit more special than a kingdom and its subject, wasn’t it?”

Eduard looks at him knowingly. Tino thinks back to the years with Sweden, moments in time. The gentle looks the swede used to give him, quiet moments between all wars and their endless battles, of the warmth next to him when they slept under open skies. Though high lords and royalty of the kingdom had never held Finland in high regard, with Berwald it had never been like that. Their private bond had always held the mutual fondness and respect for each other. 

That was perhaps why it hurt so much to hear that someone else will stand in his place now, by Berwald’s side. And what made the pain deeper, was the feeling like he was not missed as much as he felt. Since their separation six years ago, not a single letter had arrived from Berwald.

Eventually Eduard left his room, leaving the finn to take his rest. Tino is half asleep when a sharp knock at his door brings him fully awake again.

“Eduard, I am fine!” he appreciates the concern, but his friend was such a mother hen sometimes.

“It is Ivan actually”

He startles, the last bits of drowsiness leaving him instantly. Russia never came to him personally, always using Eduard as his messenger. Tino wonders if something grand or awful has happened in his lands that Ivan wanted to tell him himself.

“Come in!” Tino calls at last, finding his voice.

The door creaks open. Russia walks in and merely his presence seems to absorb all space in the room. Tino self consciously nearly curls into himself, but he can’t show weakness. Not in front of this man. He sits up instead, trying to hold his head high despite his insecurity.

“What is it? Has something happened in my…?”

“No, nothing too remarkable. There is no need to concern yourself” Ivan stands on the other side, not taking the chair next to bed as Tino had assumed, _feared_. He’s not comfortable enough yet to handle the Russian's presence that close. “I just came to see how you were faring”

“I am… fine, thank you” he says and looks everywhere, but at Ivan.

The Russian doesn’t say anything back, just keeps looking at the blond boy intently. Uncomfortable silence hangs in the air, but Tino refuses to say anything more. Ivan can stand there all day if he’ll like, he’s not going to talk about this with him.

“It is alright to be upset” Ivan breaks the silence. “This has been a great change for you. And to hear that your former kingdom is taking another land so soon after it had left you… It’s only natural to feel like you’re being replaced”

Tino finally snaps, turning at last to look at the man in the eye. _How dare he?_

“I wasn’t left, _it was you who took me here!_ Don’t think I can’t see what you’re trying, you want me to hate him so I will go along playing your happy little family you try to pretend we are!”

“It was Sweden’s stubbornness and actions against my tsardom that drove you here” Ivan’s voice turns oppressive in a blink. “And I am not playing anything. I understand clearly mine and your position here. I am an empire and you are my subjects. What I’m trying to do is to give you all a comfortable life here!”

Tino breathes heavily, his outburst had riled him up more than he expected. But his anger is replaced now with heavy sadness he’s held all the while these six years. He still misses his home in Stockholm, misses fighting proudly under Swedish flag, _misses Berwald_.

“Finland, you have to let go of your past with Sweden” the tone in Ivan’s voice is strangely gentle now. He seemed to have noticed the change in the finn’s mood as all his anger seems to have vanished. “I gave you autonomy. It’s a privilege your people never had before and they are grateful for my tsar for it. Don’t let it go to waste because of your personal feelings”

The russian turns to leave then, walking up to the door. He gives one last look at the finn before he leaves. When the door closes, Tino feels teardrops he’s held back leaving his eyes, landing on his lap. And finally, accepts in his heart too that he can never go back to Berwald.

  
  


_Norwegians themselves did not agree to the treaty of Kiel. On 17th of May, the country declares itself independent and selects Christian Frederick as its king. Norway’s self-sufficient action triggers a war that lasts through the summer. Norwegians fight for their just born nation defiantly, but Sweden’s financial and military advantage proves too much to overcome. However, in ceasefire discussions Sweden offers a major concession: Norway may keep its constitution even if it’s ruled by Sweden. Instead of a mere province Norway is in personal union with Sweden and hence an_ _autonomous land in the kingdom._

_In Central Europe, France is losing its power. After losing the War of Sixth Coalition, the Confederation of Rhino is dissolved and Napoleon exiled. France’s borders are returned to their previous state. The First Treaty of Paris is the start for a conference that would draw lines of new Europe. A conference that would last 8 months in its entirety in Vienna._

**_1815_ **

Ivan’s invitation to accompany him in the last negotiations at Vienna, in the Final Act, was unexpected.

Tino had gotten used to staying behind in St. Petersburg with others, doing errands and paperwork and occasional longer visits to his own capital. It was only Ivan who attended the international negotiations. The finn assumed it to remain that way so the request was a surprise. But not an unpleasant one. Because going there, representing the Grand Duchy of Finland, almost made him feel like a nation of his own.

“Borders of Europe will be concluded in that conference, as autonomous duchy it would be good for you to be present there as your own representative” Ivan had explained, with a flattering smile as always. “And don’t worry of being the only with such status there, personification of Poland will be in Vienna as well”

After Napoleon’s decline, russian and prussian troops had conquered Duchy of Warsaw. Feliks Łukasiewicz had been captured and was held in Vienna until the fate of his lands were decided for good. The most likely outcome was him returning with them to St. Petersburg.

Tino knew for Ivan this invitation was just another mean of gaining his loyalty. All the privileges he enjoyed as autonomy, they were there to give him the illusion of freedom, of sovereignty. So his people would stay quiet and content, would not rebel, would not long back to Sweden. But he would take all advantages from the russian ‘generosity’ he could get, no matter how false it was. For the pride of his people he’ll play along to Ivan’s adulation.

They step on a fine, decorated horse carriage, starting their long journey through Eastern Europe to reach the capital of Austrian Empire. _  
_

Vienna is as glorious as he imagined. The city is full of architecture at its finest, the symmetrical streets and buildings grand and graceful. There’s several theatres and art galleries they pass as they move through the city that seems to thrive on sophistication and culture. 

“Your first time here?” Ivan asks, amusingly looking at the finn opposite him whose eyes are nearly shining in wonder. Tino only nods, unable to turn his gaze away from admiring the passing scenery.

They arrive at the front of Schönbrunn Palace, where several carriages have already halted. The spirit of Austria himself is at the entrance to welcome them.

“Russia, Grand Duchy of Finland” Roderich Edelstein greets them. Tino finds the man has not changed much since he last saw him, sometime in the 17th century, when he and Berwald had battled in central Europe in the 30 Years War “I appreciate both of your presence. This congress shall bring a more peaceful future to Europe, to ensure that France nor other nation can solely dominate the continent. It it only a balance of strength that can bring us security”

“We’re glad to be here. I hope the event will end in benefit for us all and finally bring us peace” Ivan answers with a smile.

 _In benefit of the empires, of the stronger nations. As always. And peace can never last._ Tino doesn’t voice his thoughts out loud.

The palace is even more beautiful inside. Ornate yet elegant furniture, finest vases and other accessories, classic paintings… It’s like the whole building is itself a display of art. The servant leads them through the corridors that seem endless, until they reach a larger room where dozens of personifications are gathered already. Tino wishes they could discreetly just walk in, without catching much attention. But it’s impossible with someone like Ivan for company. The moment they walk in, all heads have turned on them. He nearly wants to hide behind the Russian's broad back. He settles with only keeping his gaze downwards.

Fortunately, the attention on their arrival does not last too long. Soon, the nations are turning their heads away, back to their own conversations.

“There’s many nations present here I need to discuss with” Ivan says next to him, turning his gaze down on the smaller personification “I’m afraid this is where I leave you on your own. But I think you will manage just fine, won’t you?”

Tino can’t help, but look up at him with surprise. In the past, he always accompanied Berwald in these events like a shadow on his back. It’s both unnerving and heartening, to stand here to represent himself instead.

“I-I’m good” it’s all he manages to answer.

“Feel free to talk with whoever you like” the Russian smiles and squeezes lightly on Tino’s arm with his hand. The Finn stiffens at the contact, still not quite comfortable around him. It doesn’t last long as Ivan is already walking away.

And now, he’s truly on his own and Tino finds himself at loss, not sure to whom he should go to talk with. He’s surrounded only by greater nations, who hardly regard much of a duchy like him.

“-so me and Rod thought that there should rise a new nation in Holy Roman Empire’s place. We need germans there to unify-”

 _Gilbert._ His voice is the first familiar one Tino can recognize among the chatter and decides to head towards. Spirit of Prussia he’s known since the Middle Ages and he had been an important ally back through Protestant Reformation and some of the wars against Poland. Unfortunately, the last time they met had been in the Pomeranian war, as enemies.

“ _Lange nicht gesehen, Preußen_ ” Tino is embarrassed by how rusty his German sounds. And he feels awkward, cutting in the middle of their conversation like this.

“ _Finland, mein alter freund!_ ” the silver haired man gives a wide grin and glomps him with a hard slap on his back “Haven’t seen you… since last century I guess?”

“ _Freut mich_ ” says the shorter, blond personification who accompanies them. His gaze is sharp and serious, his posture straight.

“I guess you haven’t yet Basch yet! He’s Switzerland, just got his independence back!” Gilbert introduces them. “And Basch, this is the spirit of Finland. He’s… hey, don’t you live with Russia now?”

Tino nods, with a little uncomfort. “Yes, I’m… an autonomous Grand Duchy in his empire now”

“That’s an improvement right?” the Prussian asks. “But geez, I thought you and Sweden would just be together forever. But nothing lasts, I guess?”

“I guess…” now the Finn really feels uncomfortable. Gilbert was always straightforward like this and definitely not good at reading the mood of anyone around.

“How does your autonomy work?” the swiss asks, driving the conversation from getting too personal. Tino is glad for it.

He spends the time talking with the two of them, trying not to think of the fact that somewhere here, Berwald is present too. It’s only when their Austrian host and spirit of England come to announce for the formal final negotiation to begin when he leaves them, joining the side of Ivan.

In his centuries-long life, he’s attended so many negotiations he’s lost count. But never as grand as this one, where basically all of Europe seems to be present for. There’s many familiar faces he’s met, with a few unknown between, around the tall table. But there’s only one face he’s actually looking for among them. And there, on the other side, at where it feels the most furthest from him, sits the person he’s missed so terribly it hurt for six years, who he has spent so many lonely nights thinking about. _Berwald._

The dark blue eyes stare back at him and even from this far, Tino can see the heart aching melancholy reflecting in them. His chest stings.

“Dear nations” Roderich raises his voice and all turn to look at him “I welcome all of you to this Congress of Vienna, where the new lines of Europe will be drawn and where shall begin the building of our peaceful coexistence in future to come…”

What follows is a long list of the agreed changes made read out loud. It’s hardly a negotiation anymore, the critical decisions have already been done and this final act is just confirming them, with only few details of the terms discussed.

“And as for Scandinavia…” unconsciously, Tino raises his posture, his attention more focused “Denmark, can you confirm your acceptance of ceding Norway for Sweden, as compensation for his losses in wars against Napoleon?”

His eyes fall on Mathias, sitting in the middle, arms crossed and eyes downcast. The Dane, the nation who used to be the king of Scandinavia, looks only a shadow of himself. As Sweden had risen, his kingdom had only declined. He looks stretched thin, worn out - like there is hardly any might of his past left in him anymore. And now, the last bit of pride had been cruelly ripped from him - he had lost his centuries long partner.

“Denmark, will you conf-” Arthur Kirkland is repeating his question as no answer comes out from the dane.

“Yes, I accept!” Mathias snaps sharply and Tino can see the pain it takes for him to say those words.

“Good. And Sweden, will you in turn confirm your acceptance of ceding Finland for Russia?”

His eyes find Berwald again and his breath catches, as he sees the look in them. There’s so much sorrow, regret between them. And now, they have to affirm their separation for all Europe to hear, for _forever_. Tino finds himself unable to keep looking at the swede anymore and turns his gaze away, closing his eyes as the stinging in his chest intensifies.

“I… I accept” Berwald says quietly, his voice nearly fragile.

When the lengthy list of all that has changed, of the new lines in Europe defined and confirmed, the formal discussion finally comes to an end. But not yet the whole conference. As their leaders and delegates who’ve already spent months here (rather more time spent with festing than actual negotiations), they celebrate the end with a grand dancing ball.

“You did well” Ivan tells him as they follow a servant, leading them towards their rooms “For your first time representing as the Grand Duchy”

“I… I hardly did anything” Tino says unsurely. He had not participated in the actual discussion, just some casual talking with a few personifications.

“Do not be afraid to express yourself, to stand your own ground” the tone of his voice sounds almost… encouraging “I am proud to say you’re part of my empire, but I do not need you to represent anything else than _yourself_ ”

Now the Finn is just confused. He’s no independent nation, but Ivan is nearly telling him to… act like he is one?

They have now stopped walking, the servant showing them to their rooms.

“The dinner begins at eight” he says with a bow and walks away.

“I… I’ll see you here quarter before…”

“I brought you a suit to wear” Ivan says abruptly before Tino can finish. He’s already opening the door of his room, reaching for the suitcase brought there before. He takes out a fine, light blue uniform with golden shoulder pads, collar and buttons. Shining jewels cross through the middle of it. It looks very… russian.

“Thank you, I… I will wear it” the finn says as Ivan holds out the uniform. He’s not sure if rejecting it is even an option.

He has little more than a mere hour before they will leave for the evening. The whole time, Tino only lies on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. Somehow, he feels it inside him, that times of great changes are ahead.

When he changes for the suit, it fits him well. He looks more mature, almost sophisticated… but the Finn does not feel like it’s him. Strangely, wearing the uniform feels contrary to what Ivan said earlier: it’s hard to feel like he’s only representing himself when he’s dressed up like a russian property.

After the dinner, the festivities and dances begin. Strangely, it’s nearly solely male pairs on the floor, as female personifications are very few. He’s hardly seen men dancing with each other at the court life and when they were, it was solely for amusement.

“I used to adore these events, you know” Tino nearly jumps at the familiar voice, suddenly next to him. “But now, this… it only disgusts me”

It’s Francis Bonnefoy. He had first met the french when Sweden had allied with him in 30 years war. Back then the man had been so dressed up he had felt improper in his simple military uniform. But that man was gone. The Revolution and chaos that followed after it seemed to have changed Francis inside out. 

“I… I have never really been entirely comfortable in these events” Tino admits.

“Yes, you’re a child of nature, aren’t you?”

The finn nods, taking a sip of his drink. What is he supposed to talk about with the nation who is now the outcast of Europe?

“This Congress, they cover it with pretty words, such as peaceful coexistence, balance of power… it’s really just about winners and losers. England will rise, as will germans’, while my power will abade. So clearly, I’m the latter. I wonder, which one do you consider yourself?” 

“Which one do you think I am?” Tino answers sharply.

Francis looks at him with a slightly taken aback expression, but sighs as he sees the anger in the finn’s eyes. “I do apologise that my earlier alliance with Russia led you to… this… But tides of history are unpredictable. Even something you think that could surely last forever, it just… nothing is certain” the words remind Tino how old the man actually is, how much he has experienced, seen of the world. Francis is not someone he considers wise, but times have taught him much more than the finn can imagine.

“May I have this dance?” Arthur Kirkland has come in front of them, bowing down for the french and yet the look on his face looks like a mockery.

“Always, _Angleterre_ , always” Francis says as he offers his hand, letting the brit lead him on the floor. Tino wonders if this is just another form of power display for them.

He settles with staying here where he is, sipping his drink as he observes the nations around him. As he looks at them, he realizes all this glamour, the polite talk and forced smiles, are just politics after all. Nations measuring each other, wondering if the other will be an ally or a foe for them in future. Few of them, however, just settle with sitting by the bar, probably with a plan to drink themselves to oblivion (who probably were, as Francis called them, _the losers_ ). At least Mathias there seems exactly like that, slumped down on his chair as he pours down another drink in one gulp. The spirit of Dutch Republic sits quietly next to him. A friend offering his support for the night.

Tino thinks of heading there as well, but his eyes catch the ones he has already stared at earlier today. The swede stands far, but he’s undoubtedly looking straight at Tino. And now, he’s moving towards him…

His heart beats loudly in his ears, the heavy sorrow rising in him again and Tino decides he can’t _do this right now, not yet._

He doesn’t turn back to glance even once at Berwald as he hurries away from the hall.

Tino comes out at some back yard, nearly gasping for breath. He knew that meeting the swede for the first time since the Finnish War would not be easy, but he had never imagined it would be _this_ upsetting.

“Came here to escape that pretentious shitshow too?” the voice echoes behind from his left side. A voice he still knows very well.

“Nice to see you too, Lukas” he greets the spirit of Norway.

“Nothing nice about it”

There's only silence after it, but right now, Tino is glad for it. He always liked that about Lukas: with him he felt there was never need for unnecessary small talk.

“How… how are you? Now that you live with Berwald…”

“I fucking hate it” the norwegian replies quickly. Tino is slightly taken aback at the angry tone of his voice, not used for Lukas to display much of strong emotions. _He’s changed._

“Berwald mopes around all day because of you and his king tries to pretend his nation is still some greater power because they took me as some pitiful replacement for all they lost”

“I see… you must miss Denmark, he-”

“I miss Mathias and Emil, but I definitely don’t miss Denmark” Lukas quickly interrupts him “My people were honestly already tired of danish rule, I felt it too. We wanted independence, but those swedish bastards forced us into personal union with them instead. My position is now actually better than with Denmark, but I was _so close to being_ my own...” he doesn’t finish his sentence, the bitterness of what could have been making the norwegian choke up on his words. He sighs heavily and looks at Tino with weary eyes.

“Enough of me, how are you doing in your new situation?”

“It’s… different” it’s all Tino manages to say.

“But you’re autonomous now, right?”

“Yes, Grand Duchy with my own administration and laws and so on”

“Something you never really had with Sweden, right?”

Tino looks away, disliking being reminded again of that. “I was happy with Berwald”

“Didn’t say you weren’t” replies Lukas before he turns his gaze away from the finn, looking at the large garden. There is again only a silence between them, though this one is not as comfortable as the previous.

“Promise me something, Tino…”

“What it is?” the finn looks at his company skeptically.

“All those privileges Russia has given you, don’t ever let him take them from you, you hear me?” 

“I… I won’t” replies Tino though he feels strange about the request coming from Norway, of all the personifications.

“You better. Now, let’s get back to the party. Get wasted or something”

Tino follows after the Norwegian. He’s almost smiling. Somehow, talking with someone he used to consider as his family a long time ago, someone who understood exactly his position, was relieving.

As they return to the party, the number of pairs dancing on the floor have grown, all the drinking have loosen their appearances.

“Oh god, his eyes are basically glued on you…” Lukas groans, the tone of his voice both mocking and pitiful as he looks across the room. Tino quickly glances on the way and as he guessed, the Norwegian was talking of Berwald “You have to go and talk with him”

Tino shakes his head. “I… I don’t--what would we even talk about-look, Lukas. I just can’t do it”

“Yes you can and you will. I’ve dealt with the miserable bastard ever since I had to move to Stockholm. Can’t deal with all that pining for the next decade. Give him a closure, you two never really properly had it, did you?”

The Finn nods gravely. The last time they saw each other was when that wretched armistice had been settled and his personal surrender had been one of the terms. It had been nothing of a proper goodbye. 

“Besides, it might take decades before you have chance to meet him again”

Tino closes his eyes, sighing heavily. Lukas is right. “Alright, I’ll go”

“Take that” the Norwegian offers his drink and Tino gulps it down in one swig. And then starts heading towards where the tall swede stands on his own.

With every step as he gets closer, his nerves tingle him stronger. When he finally reaches the side of Berwald, it’s like his head is empty of any words. Spirit of Sweden seems equally at unease, as he says nothing either.

“H-hi” someone has to break the silence and Tino decides to be that. “Good to see you”

“Mm…” and then it’s only quietness between them again and for a moment Tino wonders if his companion wants to speak with him at all. Fortunately, Berwald opens his mouth again “I.... was not sure if I’d see you here. But I’m very glad for your presence”

“Me too. I mean… that you’re here. Well, of course you’d be here, but it’s good I’m here too, that we’re both present--” oh god, he’s mumbling now.

The stoic Swede smiles lightly now and Tino feels familiar warmth inside him when he sees it.

“Tino” says Berwald suddenly “I’m sorry, that I had to give you up like that. And I know my words can never make it up to you, but-”

“That was out of our control” he interrupts, doesn’t want the other to think he holds some ill feelings personally at the swede of what happened.

“Still, I should have fought harder for you” now Berwald looks straight into his eyes, as if to prove how much he means his words. The gaze in them is intense. 

“Does Russia… treat you well?”

“It’s not… bad. My land can decide quite much on their own, it’s still yours… _our_ old laws that are in effect. My people have their own governance and administration, but… they still answer to the tsar, in the end”

“That’s good. That not too much has changed for your people. But I meant you, personally. You live in St.Petersburg with others?”

“Yeah, there’s lots of us in the house. And it seems Poland will join us after tonight” he explains, shifting from one foot to another. But with every word, he’s less nervous. “I don’t feel lonely there. But it’s not… home” _It’s not with you._

He looks up at Berwald again, the man’s eyes both affectionate and sorrowful. It feels cruel and unjust, for them getting caught in crossfire in the war they should have not been even part of. And paying _this high price_ for it...

“Good evening, Sweden” Tino jumps at the voice of Ivan who had abruptly appeared next to them. The tense mood between him and Berwald had only just started to soften…

“Good evening” the swede’s expression has turned back to its usual seriousness. But Tino can see from his eyes he’s furious at the Russian.

“I’m sure your reunion was pleasant and I hate to interrupt it, but the evening is nearing its end and before it does, I’d like to steal your company for one dance, if you don’t mind?”

But before neither of them can answer, Ivan has taken a gentle, but firm grip on Tino’s hand, leading him intently on the dance floor. The finn is too abashed to properly put up a resistance.

They arrive in the middle, surrounded by many other pairs and Ivan turns around, placing his large hand on Tino’s side and other taking the finn’s. Tino places his free hand on the russian’s left shoulder, tries to step a bit further, the proximity being too much. But Ivan’s hand on his back keeps him firmly in his place. The orchestra begins playing a new song and Ivan starts swaying them along to the music.

“Why did you do that?” he asks sharply in a whisper after a while, keeping his voice low. He’s very mad at Ivan interrupting something so important, but does not want to make a scene here. 

“It was rude of me, I apologize. But you must understand… your land’s ceding is far too recent. I couldn’t afford my new Grand Duchy to seem too friendly around his previous ruler. Not here”

“You… you couldn’t give us just that moment?!” Tino can’t help but raise his voice in his anger to which the Russian reacts with tightly squeezing the Finn's hand in his. It’s not painful exactly, but still uncomfortable.

“ _Shh, Finlandiya._ We don’t want the relations between your land and mine to seem adversarial, do we?” Ivan shushes at him. “I did give you your moment. I just could not let it go for longer”

 _So he had been watching them all that time…_ it upsets him all the more.

“I thought I was free to talk with whoever I wished”

“Yes, but I still must act in my empire’s interests. Your proximity with Sweden is not one”

Tino frowns at him, but doesn’t say anything anymore. The arguing will gain him nothing if this is what the spirit of Russia has set his mind on.

The dance goes on. Tino finds his stiffness loosening, his posture winding down, even if he is still very upset with the one he’s dancing with. Ivan takes notice of his partner getting less rigid and starts leading him more intently, their steps getting wider and their spinning around the floor bolder. The finn hates to admit how good, _how pleasant_ , dancing partner Ivan makes. When he glances up at the tall man, violet eyes stare down at him intensively. Tino looks away quickly.

 _“-you just couldn’t bear with what you had become!”_ an angry voice raises from behind. “Your empire, ripped apart bit by bit until you had nothing anymore!!” Tino recognizes the voice belongs to Mathias. Several heads have turned now at where the Dane is raging. The Finn is afraid he knows exactly who he is yelling at.

“and then you-you just had to take Norge from me!! Just because you were too fucking weak to keep your own partner!!”

Matthias is holding Berwald from the front of his shirt and he looks angrier than back when they left Kalmar Union, long ago, in the 16th century.

All of the nations present are now looking at the two Scandinavians, the pairs on the floor have stopped their dancing. The spirits of Dutch and England are heading briskly towards them.

“You… you will never have anything as special as we had, _you hear me?!_ ” Matthias screams on the swede’s face who only looks at him silently. And with sorrow.

“Come on, Mat. You’re making a fool of yourself…” The Dutchman has now taken hold on his friend’s shoulders, trying to get him off Berwald. But the Dane doesn’t let go. Arthur Kirkland is now stepping between too, but Mathias only holds tighter.

“Dan, stop it” it’s now Lukas who has cut in. Finally, Mathias loosens his grip and Berwald steps away. “Let me talk with him” the Norwegian says, looking pointly at others as he takes hold on the Dane's arm, leading him away.

The whole room seems to have quieted down, only the sound of the orchestra still playing in the background.

“There’s nothing more to see, get back to your own business!” it’s Gilbert who yells it and soon, the nations continue the evening, as if there was no any incident at all.

They leave Vienna the morning after. Now, in his and Ivan’s carriage, there’s a third personification as well. As he had suspected, the fate of Feliks Lukasiewicz had been set up for him to head for St. Petersburg. Duchy of Warsaw, fallen with Napoleon, had been ceded to Russia.

Tino is very familiar with the slim blond next to him: his and Lithuania’s kingdom had been one of the biggest rivals for Sweden. He had never personally liked the pole, but now feels sorry for the spirit whose nation had been wiped out from the map.

“I understand your dislike towards your fate. But you will have the fortune of enjoying quite considerable autonomy in my empire” Ivan says as his new subject only keeps looking out the window, frowning in spite. Feliks still says nothing. The russian narrows his eyes at him and turns his gaze on Tino instead, smiling flatteringly.

“Finlandiya, why don’t you explain what exactly is offered to him? How your self-governance works”

Tino nods tentatively. “It means, you’ll have your own administration and governance, you may keep your old laws, religion and…”

“But they will all still answer to the tsar, right?” Feliks interrupts him sharply. Tino frowns and glances at Ivan in question. The man only quietly looks at the pole, with no intention to answer. The Finn understands it’s him who has to.

“Y-yes, but he has to respect your constit…”

“Which tsar considers himself above?” the green ferocious eyes shoot daggers at Ivan.

Tino opens his mouth to speak up again, but realizes he doesn’t know the answer. He understands then that in that aspect, there lies a contradiction. Their lands are supposed to be ruled according to their constitutions, but in Russia, a tsar is regarded as absolute ruler, above any law…

“Then this autonomy, it’s little more than a fiction” Feliks hisses at Ivan, then looks at Tino with an expression that can only be of mockery. _What a naive and foolish duchy you are._

After that, none of them says a word for a long while.


	2. Chapter 2

When they return to St. Petersburg, it’s Toris that’s at the door first.

“Welcome back” he greets the three personifications, but his eyes are only on one of them.

“Thank you, Lithuania” Ivan says, his voice with pressure that makes Toris break off his intense gaze on the spirit of Poland. Tino wonders if that already is one message for them: that their conqueror won’t bear the two too close to one another under his roof. The Finn does understand the threat Ivan sees in them: he has seen, experienced it himself what force Poland and Lithuania can make together.

The others have now arrived as well on the hallway. Ivan looks pleased for their presence. He always is when all of them are together.

“I’m glad to introduce another one to live with us. Meet the kingdom of Poland, the new autonomous land to join my empire. But I’m sure all of you are already familiar with him” he says as he gestures for Feliks to step forward. The Pole doesn’t.

“He must be tired of the journey. Perhaps it’s better to take him upstairs to his room” Ivan frowns at the stubborn blond. Toris is already stepping forward, without doubt to volunteer for the task, but Ivan speaks up before he can. “ _Finlandiya,_ would you kindly do that?”

Tino startles at the sudden request, but nods quickly to accept. Right away, Feliks walks past him, heading to stairs without a word. His luggage is left behind. At first, the Finn wonders if he just forgot about it, but then sees the apologetic look Toris gives him. Apparently, the Pole was just giving an attitude.

Feliks’ room is not far from his. The Baltics, Ivan’s sisters and Bessarabia have theirs further back at the upper floor, while he and now Poland as well, are seated in the bigger rooms, not far from Ivan’s premises and own chamber. Tino can’t help being disappointed with his new neighbour being the one he perhaps likes least in the house... after Ivan, of course.

Feliks is still quiet when they walk in. He only glares at the Finn, that can only be interpreted as something along the lines of _‘get lost, already’_. Obviously, the dislike is mutual.

“You’re not going to help yourself with being like this” Tino says as he drops the suitcase. He really is getting tired of having to be the target where the Pole seems to aim his frustration at “But right now, you just… have to accept it. And try to do the best you can, for the sake of your people”

He’s still silent. The fiery glare only intensifies, the message now something of _‘don’t you lecture me of what I should do’._ Tino sighs and continues “Look, I know where you’re coming from. I know how it feels like, just being taken away, without being able to do anyth--”

“You have _no idea_ where I’m coming from” Feliks finally speaks up, his green eyes turning frantic as he steps forward, right in Tino’s personal space. “Do you know how it feels like to see your kingdom, that you’ve built for centuries to become so prosperous and civilized, only to see it crumble under the greed of other nations around you? See it ripped apart, not only once but _three times_ until there’s nothing left anymore? Being erased out from maps--” his voice breaks with the last words and the Pole steps back, turning around. Feliks refuses to show his despair in front of this... _duchy,_ who naively believes their autonomy means something. No, Finland definitely does not understand him.

“Well, _of course_ you don’t know. How could you, when your land has never been itself on the map in the first place” Feliks hisses, nearly laughing of the irony. He can’t help it. His words are always the most cruel when he’s angry. Or sad. Now he feels both.

It takes all will power from Tino not to answer that grating insult with something equally harsh. The words had offended him deeply. He had only tried to be kind... Obviously, with someone like Feliks it was wasted. He won’t attempt it again. 

“I… I have nothing more to say to you. Make yourself at home” Tino says sharply, swiftly turning around and stomping away. He’s above petty words, won’t lower himself to start an argument that will only worsen their relationship. But he already thinks he might learn to dislike the Pole as much as Ivan with time.

Outside the door, there’s Toris, as expected. The Lithuanian looks worried.

“Is Feliks… alright?”

“He still has the spirit to mock me at least” the Finn huffs in irritation “I don’t understand how you put up with him all that time…”

The brunette smiles fondly. “I often wondered that myself too… but when you’re with someone, you get the good and the bad, you know?” Then he walks past Tino, to properly reunite with his partner. The door is closed.

Right now, Tino just can’t understand what good there is. But then again, he doesn’t know Feliks, not personally enough to tell. And he doesn’t know all there is, in the relationship of spirits of Poland and Lithuania. Nevertheless, he still wishes the two are allowed to keep their personal bond, even if their lands are not in union anymore. With Toris to console him, Feliks might be more bearable to deal with.

**_1819_ **

_Since around the end of the 18th century, Romanticism had dominated the cultural life of Europe. Emphasizing on emotions, imagination and freedom, the tide glorified especially the past and nature. It elevated folk art and ancient customs, awakening the people of the lands under rule of empires and greater nations to search for their roots, their identity._

_By the 1810s, Romanticism had reached Finland too. The academic life in Åbo, the university students, had taken objective to awaken the national hood of finns and develop their language._

Tino breathes in the fresh sea air, looking at the harbor of Helsinki one last time. He doesn’t know when he will see it again.

He had stayed in the city for a few weeks, doing the usual representative tasks and meeting several people of importance. But what he had not expected was the trip he’d take to Åbo. When meeting academic circles in the city, he had met a group of enthusiastic students who had been thrilled of _‘getting this incredible chance and privilege to meet the very personification of the fatherland’._ Their ardor had been flattering, Tino had nearly blushed under their attention. And then one of them insisted on taking him to the previous capital city, to show how the university there now flourished. He had been reluctant at first: he doubted Ivan would take well any visits outside Helsinki, especially to the west coast. But Tino didn’t have the heart to turn down the enthusiastic young man. And what Ivan didn’t know could not upset him. With a bit of insecurity, but far higher excitement, Tino had agreed.

And what he didn’t expect either was how profoundly the visit to Åbo would have on him.

The man had introduced Tino to his fellow students in the city who had all shared the same eagerness of meeting him. The weekend long stay passed with vivacious socializing: the men asking endlessly of certain events in history they’ve only read about, them telling of the current state of cultural life of his land and of course, the late night nearly philosophical discussions with drinking and games. He had felt strange unity to his people that night, a different one he’s used to. Their pride for their homeland was extraordinarily strong.

And on the day Tino left the city, one of the academics he met, a writer and a historian, had given him a book as a parting gift.

_“What is it?”_

_“A collection of poems and songs. I wrote it while on my journey to Savo” the man nearly glows with pride as he hands his work for Tino. “That’s the first copy. I want you to have it”_

_“That is… incredible. Thank you is not enough for how much I appreciate this. From who…?”_

_“Peasants around the countryside. Just ordinary, honest common folk”_

_He can’t quite hide his surprise. His common folk really were not usually… recognized anything besides their crops._

_Gladly, this man seemed to think differently. “They are the true soul and memory of the fatherland. And your pride. Not the aristocracy who hardly ever did anything except follow in Sweden’s footsteps. I hope to change it”_

_“I will proudly follow your work, Ardwissen. I hope I will hear from you soon”_

_“You surely will” he says, his smile confident. “Farewell, the very spirit of my fatherland. I wish our paths will cross again. May my work comfort you in St. Petersburg, when you long for your true home”_

He had already read it on the way back to Helsinki. Tino couldn’t take his eyes off the work the moment he started reading. His heart had swelled with pride, seeing his own language bend so beautifully in the words.

Tino clenches tightly the book against his chest. With it, he feels like he can bring a bit of his people with him when he returns to Russia. He’ll cherish the work, certainly.

And he has to keep it well hidden away from Ivan’s eyes.

“Welcome back” Eduard is the first one to greet him when he arrives, hugging him lightly. “Hope your stay at Helsinki was a good one”

“It definitely was” replies Tino, returning the embrace. “Come to my room. I want to show you something” he whispers when his chin is on the Estonian’s shoulder.

“Tino, this is… this is incredible!” Eduard browses through the book in awe. “That man, Arwidsson… he really intends to rise the pride of your people”

“They deserve it, at last” Tino smiles in zest. Not many years had passed since the tsar had declared him to rise ‘as nation among nations’, but he, his people, they have already changed, he feels it inside of him. They have finally realized they can be something else than swedes.

But the expression on his friend’s face changes quickly from joy on his behalf to anxiety. Eduard looks up at Tino seriously, face frowning in worry. “You can’t let Russia know of this. He won’t take it well. Especially now with Poland being like this...”

The Finn nods gravely. Ever since Feliks had arrived in the house, he had constantly been testing the limits of his autonomy, to see how far he could go with his land’s self-governance. And Ivan was losing his patience with the Pole, they could all see it. On times like this, Tino knew that any hints of too national thinking, even something as simple as a poetry book, could trigger the Russian unpleasantly.

“I know. Don’t worry, I’m intending to hide it very well” Tino smiles with confidence and pads the mattress of his bed. Between it and the bedding, the book’s existence should remain a secret.

**_1820_ **

_“--the tsar does not respect the constitution, he’s giving no reasons for Sejm to respect him!”_

_“I thought we made this clear since Vienna, that the tsar is your King as well, which means absolute power over-”_

_“No man is above the constitution!!”_

It was another evening like this: another disagreement with Ivan and Feliks who saw quite differently the state of Poland in the empire. Tino understands the Pole’s frustration, but finds his constant rebelling unwise as it certainly will not improve his position.

Himself, the Finn has learned to keep quiet. He obeys Ivan, keeps firmly standing behind the line set for him. He understands his privilege and is intent not to lose it.

They all had been sitting in the large living room, as Ivan had read them aloud of all the current events in the empire. As expected, when he got started with Poland, Feliks had pressed him on further with questions, until it had turned to an argument. By then, Ivan had got so crossed he had taken their brawl to the other room for privacy. But their voices had quickly risen high enough for all of them to hear it.

Feliks marches out, fuming in his anger, followed by Ivan.

“That was all for tonight” it’s all the Russian says for them before he heads out without another word.

The slight blond slumps down on the armchair next to Toris, several curses in Polish coming out of his mouth.

“You need to control your temper” The Lithuanian tries to calm him down with gentleness. “If you presented your opinions with less mocking manner, he might listen…”

“Hell he will! If I only play nice and look pretty, nothing will happen”

“I doubt this way it will improve either” Tino can’t help voicing his thoughts aloud, but says them quietly. But loud enough for Feliks to hear.

“What was that, _Finland?_ ” the fiery green eyes turn on him, challenging him to repeat it.

“What I mean is, when you keep standing up like this, he certainly won't have any interest in respecting your autonomy. I’d say even you’re only making this worse for yourself” he tries not to sound too scornful.

“You still think this illusion he gives us of sovereignty, is anything more than that? What a loyal little fool you are…” Feliks doesn’t bother to hide his scorn tone at all.

Tino breathes in, tells himself not to get riled up from the Pole's taunting. “I only understand our position here and take the best I can get. And I have every reason to be glad for my state, it’s a privilege”

Feliks laughs aloud. “A privilege you say… Well I guess you’ve never known like, any better, have you?”

Tino feels his restraint fading at last. The Finn narrows his eyes at the other blond - if the spirit of Poland is so eager to argue and bully him, he’s not going to simply keep quiet this time. Next to his partner, Toris is reaching to grasp his arm. “Feliks, that’s enough…”

"There is _no any better_ option for me, for us. And I won't lose what I have now for--" Tino rises his voice to speak in far harsher tone than previously. But the Pole doesn't back down an inch. 

“Finland, let me tell you something of experience. When you want something, be it more land or respect from greater nations, you have to fight for it and take it yourself. It’s the only way you can gain anything in this world. If you only keep being quiet and content, you will never have it” Feliks speaks over him shamelessly, angering the Finn further. But the words had their effect as Tino finds himself humiliatingly speechless. And before he even has the chance to answer, Feliks is already standing up, not interested in any further arguments. He’s already in a headache from the previous one “And with someone like Russia, he’ll strip you out of all that privilege, when he gets the chance. No matter how nice you play with him”

He walks out after that, without any intention to hear for a response. Toris gives Tino a look that’s again like he’s apologizing on the other’s behalf and trails after Feliks.

The silence they leave behind is deafening.

"Tino, don't take it too personally. It's Feliks. And he's still so bitter for losing his sovereignty" Eduard says quietly.

"I know. But it's just... he can't keep doing this. He's only worsening his state like that. And in time it might affect all of us" _Poland might become cautionary case for Russia when its subject have too much liberty._ Which means then his autonomy too...

The Finn feels himself shake with anger and thread. The Pole’s words had not only been insulting, he fears the truth they might hold in them.

_The tsar Alexander I, who had started his reign as liberal and modern ruler with several reforms in the empire, had now turned very conservative, fearing the rise of too strong nationalism in the lands he ruled and revolutional conspiracies against him._ _He ends many of the reforms he had himself implemented earlier._

_In Poland, he abolishes freedom of the press and introduces preventory censorship which soon spreads all over the empire._

**_1821_ **

“Finlandiya” Ivan says, the tone of his voice holding notable pressure. All eight of them, sitting on their places along the long dinner table, tense up. “Come to my room after supper. I wish to speak with you”

“Alright” replies Tino, hating how frail his voice sounds. On the other side, Eduard glances at him, frowning in worry.

The walk to Ivan’s premises is in silence and with every step Tino feels his distress growing. When they reach the room, the Russian holds the door open for him as he steps in. Ivan goes to take his seat at his workplace, starts to browse through some of his paperwork that seem endless.

“Are you aware of what is happening in Poland?” he asks, as he continues his browsing.

The Finn glances at the Russian in confusion. _Why are they talking about Poland?_ “Only vaguely. From what I understood, the tsar has not been pleased with his Polish subjects. Which is why he is now limiting their autonomy”

“Do you know why Alexander has not been pleased with Poland?”

Tino shakes his head. Of course he’s seen from Feliks that the Poles were especially stubborn against their ruler, but he doesn’t know the details.

“They constantly keep disrespecting the empire, stepping over the line with their autonomy. You must understand the tsar can’t risk its subjects to have… too independent thinking” 

“Of course” Tino feels his other hand slightly shaking. He clenches it into a tight fist.

“Then you must understand the censorship he plans to carry out” Ivan seems to have found what he was looking for as he takes out a document. It looks like a piece from a magazine. “And it won’t only be Poland that it will concern”

So this is what he is here for. _A warning._

“I have to say this… _Åbo Morgonblad_ … has interesting opinions” Ivan says as his eyes scan through the words “The writer, Arwidsson by his name I believe, finds the state of Finland to be… mournful and dark” he glances up, looking at Tino straight in the eyes “Do you find the Grand Duchy to be such as he describes?”

Tino braces himself to keep his voice even, as his hands are now trembling “We are in peace, my land and people have adjusted well within your empire. I believe we have no reason to be in misery” there’s no lie in his words: it’s genuinely how he feels. He’s comfortable. But not exactly happy. But the spirit of Russia doesn’t need to know that.

Ivan keeps looking at him intensively, as if he can pierce through the mask the Finn holds. A moment of silence passes over them and Tino fears the other feels like he's lying. But then Ivan's gaze on him softens.

“I’m glad you feel that. It’s what I’ve wanted all this time, since I took you here” his words sound nearly affectionate “So outward, everything should be well for you, for your people. And yet... some of them think it’s not enough. That your people should hold more pride in their identity, demand to be… recognized distinctly apart from the empire” his voice turns colder with the latter sentence. 

“I can’t control what some of my people think” Tino is determined to stand his ground “We have our own identity, we’ve always had. Perhaps we’re just better aware of it now when we’re no longer connected to Sweden”

“Perhaps” Ivan stands up now, walking up to him. He tenses, but doesn’t back away a step. “But we’re living in perilous times. Alexander simply just can’t afford to risk too radical thoughts voiced aloud. I hope you understand that”

“I do” replies Tino, holding the taller man’s gaze. 

“Then you understand why Arwidsson’s magazine must be discontinued” then Ivan steps past him, opening the door. A cue that the conversation is over.

A strong sense of indignation rises in him for a moment, but Tino remains silent. He knows he can do nothing about it. He turns around, taking his leave as he was asked.

“Do not take it personally. It’s done all around the empire. And it’s what must be done, to retain our peace” Ivan’s voice is now softer. When the Finn has walked past him, he speaks up again. “By no means I don't mind your people writing their poems, their stories. But I do not want them to be anything more than that”

 _He knows of the book._ Tino realizes in horror and looks back, cautiously. His position in the house might turn very poor after this. But Ivan’s eyes seem to hold only genuine fondness. “Your language is beautiful. Very fit for poetry”

“So I am still… allowed to write and read it?” he asks, unsurely.

“Of course. I encourage it. Our languages are very essential for who we are. It would be mindlessly cruel to deny that. Just keep it from being… too political” Ivan replies with a smile. He rises his hand, laying it on the Finn’s shoulder. Tino is surprised that this time he doesn't flinch. Perhaps he is starting to get used to the Russian’s casual touches. “This doesn’t have to affect us, personally. I’d prefer if you could be at comfort around me”

His eyes widen, baffled by the request. The way the Ivan keeps looking at him is something he’s not seen before. It is almost… _pleading._

“Sure, we’re… we’re good” _What else can he even say?_

“Hopefully it remains that way” Ivan squeezes lightly on his shoulder that feels thin in the Russian’s large grasp, before letting go. He walks back to his table, continuing his work. 

“You’re free to leave” he says in amusement as Tino only keeps standing baffled at the doorway.

“Yes, I just… goodnight!” he replies swiftly, flushing in embarrassment.

As he closes the door behind him, a thought he never really considered before occurs to him: perhaps Ivan truly is lonely here, in his own house, surrounded by lands who mostly either or both fear and hate him. And simply longs for a companionship. He almost feels sorry for the man. Despite what he thinks of the empire, Tino wonders if he should hold the same judgement against the person representing it. When he was with Berwald, he always regarded their bond separate from Sweden itself.

Perhaps Ivan deserves a chance like that too. 

_Adolf Ivar Arwidsson was suspended from Åbo Academy in 1823 as he kept on expressing strongly his opinions of Finland’s national identity and judging the land’s governmental administration who were loyal to the tsar. Not long after his expelling, he moved to Sweden. There he kept on continuing his work of patriotic research and writing._

_Arwidsson did not manage to awaken the rise of national pride of Finns in larger scale, but it was a start for it and his work would serve as inspiration for other academics to continue in his footsteps._

**_1825_ **

“The tsar is dead”

Just with those few words, Ivan had told them of the passing of Alexander I. And then had retreated to his rooms without another word.

The news came unexpected for all of them. They could only look at each other, the same confusion and distress of their uncertain future in their eyes. _What now?_

Tino can’t deny the melancholy he feels of Alexander I's absence. Fondness was not quite what he had felt of the tsar, but there had been respect, admiration even. He was after all the man who had granted him his autonomy. The graceful tsar had never been unjust or cruel, not for Finland and the people in the Grand Duchy had always looked up to him as a benevolent ruler. Even if he had lost his liberal aspirations at the end of his reign.

Tino knows he will not hold any ill thoughts of the man. Only remember him as the tsar that was the first ruler to recognize him nearly as a nation of his own. 

The large house feels now abnormally quiet.

It’s been days since the news and Ivan still has still come out of his room. He seems deep in his mourning, leaving the rest of them in dark for the questions burning their minds. _Who will be the new tsar? Will our states change in the empire? What will be in store for our future?_

Alexander had been unfortunate with his heirs: all the children of him and his consort Elizabeth had died while young. He had only two brothers to succeed him, both of them unwilling to take his place. Such a situation holds high vulnerability, risk for a coup. They all know that this can quickly lead the empire to chaos.

They try to go on with their lives as usual, even if all of them are on edge, just waiting to hear _anything._

When Ivan finally comes out, it is only to leave them soon after and without any news to tell them.

“I must go back to the palace” it's all he says before he goes.

They don’t hear from him for weeks.

_Alexander I had no children, but brothers to succeed him. The first one in the line, Konstantin refused the crown and in his place Nikolai I rose on the throne. But the new tsar was not someone all found his claim legitimate enough._

_An officer group with 3000 soldiers refused to recognize his claim and demanded a constitution instead. The young military men, after witnessing at Napoleonic Wars the welfare western European countries enjoyed with their liberal constitutions, wanted Konstantin to become the tsar, as he was more liberal than his brother and his power could be limited easier. Their goal is to overthrow the autocratic system of Russia. On 26th of December, the officer mutiny known as Decembrist Revolt began at Senate Square of St. Petersburg._

Letter from Ivan had arrived merely a day before, mentioning unrest and that something major might happen soon, something that will define the future of the empire.

The news of the revolt followed soon after. The mood is so tense none of them dares voice their thoughts aloud of what might happen. Or what they feel of it.

This rebellion might profoundly change the course of Russia. But Ivan’s letter had given nothing of what he felt, where he stood personally. None of them knows is it Nikolai or the liberal officers he supports.

Despite what will be the outcome, they all feel insecure of their future.

_  
  
_

It’s been three days and Ivan still has not returned. The evening is late already and the eight personifications have played card games for hours, but many of them are getting tired of the wait.

“I don’t think he’s coming home tonight” Katyusha says, the worry in her voice unmistakable. As a sister, she of course feels concern for her brother, despite her dislike for his empire.

“Whatever, don’t really care enough to stay up anymore” Feliks yawns. “I’ll call it a night” as he stands up, he looks expectably at the spirit of Lithuania, raising his eyebrows.

“I… I’m tired too” Toris says hastily, blushing and follows after him. Tino nearly rolls his eyes. The two always took their chance to sleep in the same room when Ivan was not present. And probably sneaked around even when he was.

“Rest of you stay. I want to finish the game” Natasha says sharply before anyone else can leave.

After a while, Eduard and Ravis retire as well and now it’s only Tino and Ivan’s sisters who are still up. And personification of Bessarabia too, snoring loudly by him.

“Natasha, he’s not going to come tonight. Let’s just go to sleep” Katyusha tells her sister who seems to be struggling with keeping her eyes open. The other glares at her, but follows the advice. Tino picks up the sleeping Aurel, carrying him upstairs after the two females.

He lays down the small Slavic boy on his bed, covering him with a blanket. He brushes gently the boy’s forehead and moves to leave, but a small hand reaches for him.

“Don’t go, big brother…” Aurel mumbles, half asleep.

 _He dreams of Romania._ Tino’s heart aches with pity for the boy who clearly misses his sibling deeply, despite how he only insults his brother the rare times he speaks of him.

The Finn sits by his side for a long while, gently stroking his hair until the boy is fully asleep and content. He leaves the room quietly, carefully closing the door so that Aurel will surely not awaken. As he leaves the wing and starts heading to the other side where his own chamber is, there’s a sound of a door opening downstairs.

Ivan slouches in with heavy steps, slumping down on his red armchair the moment he reaches it.

“Who is the tsar now?” Tino asks, standing nervously near the wall and a genuine surprise rises in Ivan’s face of his presence. Not many have caught him this off guard.

“Nikolai I” he replies, his voice showing neither pride nor malice.

The Finn nods thoughtfully. So the tsar kept his crown. The rebellion has been crushed and his new ruler is a conservative. He’s slightly afraid of what it will mean for his autonomy.

“He’s a very reasonable man” the Russian says, taking note of his distress. “A man who values above all, order and obedience. I believe if your people keep living as harmlessly as they have done until now, he has no reason to look twice in your direction”

“I see” his eyes fall on the floor. So he’ll have to continue keeping quiet, being content with what he has. A faithful subject. He looks at Ivan again, the man is looking at nothing, eyes melancholic. Tino thinks he deserves some kindness “And you… are you… alright?”

For a second time that night, the spirit of Russia looks taken aback by him. He smiles fondly when the initial surprise passes. The personifications here apart from his sisters never asked of his well being.

“I’m quite fine. But these revolts, they’re never pleasant. They always end in bloodshed, unnecessary deaths” Ivan says and his heavy voice tells he’s seen events such as these several times before. “But thank you for your concern, Finlandiya”

His last words are so gentle that Tino feels strange warmth from them. It makes him wonder, has he unfairly judged the Russian for centuries, seen him only as the cruel barbarian all of Europe seemed to view him as.

“Tomorrow, I will tell you and others properly what occurred at the square. And of your new tsar. But for now, let both of us rest for the night” he says as Tino continues to stare.

“Yes, of course. Goodnight” the Finn answers with a smile, leaving the room.

As he heads upstairs, Tino realizes it was the first time he genuinely smiled at Ivan.

  
  


_Nikolai I’s superior troops and artillery crushed the rebellion thoroughly. The remaining participants had scattered and some of them reached the river Neva. But Nikolai's soldiers caught up with them and broke apart the last of the Decambrists. Those left alive were taken prisoners. Afterwards, over 200 men who were thought to have any connection to the rebellion, were arrested. The officers caught, were hanged or sent to Siberia._

_Nikolai I had ensured the continuation of autocratic rule in Russia and strongly rejected liberal European values. He had shown the empire he would not hold back to suppress brutally any opposition against him. His rule began the era of strong control and surveillance in the empire._

**_1827_ **

A searing pain wakes him up screaming in the middle of night.

It’s Feliks who storms in first, as his room is the one the closest.

“What the hell, Finland?!” the Pole curses as he tries to get close, but Tino wriggles like possessed, unable to calm down himself at all. He can’t think clearly, not through the piercing, burning ache.

“There’s something happening in his land” Ivan has now come in too, walking inside the room with firm steps.

“Yes, I can see that” Feliks snaps at him in irritation, still trying to get some hold on the Finn who is only sobbing now, but still squirming around mindlessly “But it must be like, really bad, if he’s like this. I mean, he’s not a dramatic type so it’s not like he’s acting out--”

“Like you would?” the Russian can’t help, but sneer at his subject, who has been nothing, but disrespectful lately. The Pole glares at him, but doesn’t say anything to answer.

“Move aside, let me…” Ivan steps in his place “Go get some vodka. He’ll need it”

“Fine” Feliks replies annoyedly, walking out quickly.

The Russian sits on the bed, catching firmly on Tino’s hands, pressing them down steadily “You must calm down, Finlandiya”

The Finn still wriggles under his grip for a while, but slowly, quiets down until he’s only shaking.

“What has happened?” Ivan asks calmly.

“My city… it’s burning…” he answers between his sobs.

“Helsinki?”

“I’m not sure…”

“Tino! Are you alright?” It's now Eduard who walks in, the others behind him at the doorway.

The Finn breathes heavily and moans. The pain is intensifying again.

“There has been some fire accident in some of his cities. A large one. Prepare a cold bath” replies Ivan in his place, seeing the Finn’s inability to answer right now.

“Poor boy…” Katyusha shakes her head in concern.

Tino thinks he passed out somewhere between as the next thing he feels is sudden coldness. He winces at the abrupt chillness against his burning skin, trying to get away from it, but there’s large hands on his shoulders, holding him underwater from his neck.

“You have to cool down. The uncomfort will pass after awhile” the deep voice is no other than Ivan’s. The Russian reaches for a glass next to him, offering the drink for Tino.

He sniffs at it suspiciously, a strong ethanol filling his nostrils.

“What is this?” he asks in disgust.

“Russian vodka. I’m surprised if you’ve not tried it before, after living here for nearly two decades”

“Guess I better start now” replies Tino, gulping down the drink in one swig. He coughs, the alcohol burning in his sore throat.

Ivan smiles, admiring how obstinate the northerner could be even now, in this state. “Not many do that the first time they try it”

“I really don’t care for savoring the flavor and all”

“Who knew you had such a russian trait in you?” he says with a laugh as he gets up. “Stay there, until you feel better. I’ll wait outside”

Tino nods absentmindedly. The pain is still present, but it’s not nearly as horrid anymore. The ice cool water and the vodka fogging his mind definitely helps. He leans back his nape comfortably against the bathtub, closing his eyes.

When he opens them again, he’s on his bed again, the morning light shining through his open window. His scalded chest is covered with bandages.

The sight has to be one of the most depressing Tino has ever seen.

It’s not the first time Turku has burned, it has happened several times before, but never this severely. His greatest city, his previous capital, hardly has anything left of it.

“My condolences” Ivan says next to him “The empire will offer it’s full support for people left without their homes and for rebuilding the city”

“I guess they won't be wooden houses we’ll build here anymore?” he asks, but the question’s irony doesn’t amuse either of them.

“Certainly not” Ivan replies after a moment of silence “The Imperial Academy, I’m sure you’ll understand why it will be moved to Helsinki”

Tino nodes in acceptance, but his melancholy only increases. _Åbo Academy_ was his first university, built back in the 17th century when Sweden had been one of the great powers dominating Europe. He still remembers vividly the day he and Berwald had first walked in there, the infinite pride he had felt and the warm smile from the Swede, genuinely happy on his behalf... It’s devastating that only ashes are now left of that place. 

Tino feels like there’s a hollow place in his heart now, where Åbo, Turku used to be. The city had always felt like a bridge between his land and Sweden. And now it’s…

The Finn sighs heavily and holds back his tears. This city is his past, his future is with Helsinki and that’s where he should place his heart now. But his heart still aches with the sentiment that it’s like his last connection to his previous kingdom, _to Berwald,_ had burned down with Turku.

_The Great Fire of Turku destroyed most of the city that was at the time, the largest in the country. Over 11 000 people were left homeless and dozens of people lost their lives. It was the largest urban fire ever in the history of Finland and all Nordic countries._ _The fire had destroyed most of the premises and materials of the Royal Academy of Åbo. With the tsar’s command, the academy was moved to Helsinki and renamed as Imperial Alexander University of Finland._

**_1830_ **

_The autonomous status of the kingdom of Poland kept being weakened by the tsar. It’s liberal constitution, one of the most progressive in Europe at the time, was largely ignored by the Russian authorities and Polish frustration towards the empire had grown to a volatile point._

_It was another revolution of France in July 1830, followed by Belgium declaring independence from Dutch Republic, that finally triggered the uprising in Poland._

_“No way in hell I agree to that!!”_ the furious shouting of Feliks echoes far. But he doesn't care. Let them all hear it, they’ll learn that the might of Poland is still alive and strong, despite all this oppression the empire has weighed him down with for years.

“Your soldiers, your army, is as much obliged to serve the tsar as any other duchy” Ivan answers calmly, but his tense posture tells the man is not far from losing his temper too.

“But I’m no simple duchy to command” Feliks hisses, slamming his hands on the table “I might be part of your empire now, but I was promised my own governance, my own laws. I’m still a kingdom with my own constitution! To use my troops to suppress a foreign mutiny not even concerning us is an obvious violation of it!!”

“A kingdom that still answers to my tsar. And his command is that Polish will fight to support Dutch with weeding out the anarchy of Belgium” the Russian stands up now, towering over the much slighter personification. But the Pole is not intimidated a bit.

“Go to hell” the blond snarls his last words, marching out with a heavy slam of the door behind him.

The quarrel had not gone unheard by others. They all have sensed the straining tensions between the two as the tsar’s grip around Poland kept tightening. And Europe was shaking again with revolutions, a threat that Nikolai I was very afraid of spreading to Russia too. They know it’s only a matter of time before someone will take up arms.

A sound of a window breaking awakens Tino at small hours. When the initial fright passes and he understands he’s not under attack, he cautiously walks up to his door, opens it. There’s no one at the corridor, but the sound was so close it can’t be far. When his eyes land on the door of Feliks, he realizes what likely has happened.

He opens the door and as expected, the room is filled with splinters and the window there broken.

“That… arrogant fool!!” it did not take long for Ivan to arrive too, the Russian running past him, to downstairs _“Guards!!”_

Tino trails after him.

When they reach outside, only two dead guards and an echo of horse hooves against the ground is what’s left of the fugitive. Ivan curses out loud. Tino is not sure what to feel, but some newfound respect rises in him for the Pole.

Feliks had always been nimble as a soldier, but being able to escape the guarded and locked house that smoothly was an achievement perhaps no one else here could pull off.

The others have arrived now outside as well. 

“Mi-mister Russia…” Ravis says quietly, eyes on the ground.

Ivan’s frantic eyes turn on him quickly, waiting for his response. But the Livonian seems to have lost his confidence to continue and Eduard takes his place to finish the news.

“It’s… Lithuania. He’s gone too”

Ivan’s violet eyes turn a shade darker and in fury, slams his fist into the open stable door.

_In November, a group of Polish officer students try to murder the viceroy of Poland, Konstantin Pavlovits Romanov, the brother of the tsar. The attempt fails, but the rebels manage to take control of arsenal in Warsaw, with support of the citizens. Next day, all of the city is in their control and Konstantin escapes._

_By December, the rebellion has turned into a national uprising, with a goal of liberating Poland from Russian Empire._

Every one of them is afraid now of a single thing done wrong. They hardly dare to speak to Ivan at all as one missaid word can now trigger him. They continue their lives, keep their heads low and wait for the news from Poland.

Tino knows he and his land are especially under surveillance now. He’s the only one in a position similar to Poland, an autonomous subject that might take the chance to rise now. It’s now if ever that Finland’s loyalty to the Empire is tested.

But he’s nothing like Feliks, his people nothing like Poles. They understand their place in Russia, they wouldn’t dare such an uprising when it’s clear they can’t stand a chance. And his people respect the tsar, despite everything. They see the Polish uprising as nothing, but anarchical mutiny and disturbance of peace. Tino doesn’t like to admit it, but he is starting to feel some of that respect too. And not only at the tsar. His attitude at Ivan too has somehow… changed. Softened even.

Yet, he’s still afraid what Poland’s rebellion will mean for him. Does his obedience mean anything in the end if Nikolai I will see that any land with autonomy in the empire is an inevitable threat? Will another land’s mistake cost him his privilege?

The questions are on his mind constantly, but he doesn’t dare to ask them from Ivan himself.

And then when one evening the Russian asks his attendance to his premises, he’s both relieved and afraid.

“Thank you for coming” Ivan says, looking at him expressionlessly behind his table “As you’re aware, there's severe unrest happening now in the Polish lands. An unrest that is a serious threat for peace and security of the empire”

“Yes, it’s… concerning” Tino picks his few words carefully.

“I’m curious, where does your opinion stand on the matter? Do you find this rebellion only concerning or do you… _sympathize_ with the poles?”

The Finn breathes in deeply. He knew the question was coming, but still finds it hard to keep his stance clear. “I think it’s mad, ill-judged. Even if I can understand the frustration of Poland, this is… it’s going too far. And I…” Tino holds back, not sure if he dares to voice out loud his own fears for Ivan. The Russian might see even that as a risk. A risk that must be done away with. But he sets aside his fear, decides to give the other a chance to prove him wrong of his doubts against Russia “...I’m very concerned if this uprising will risk my autonomy too”

There’s something like awe in Ivan’s eyes. As if he didn’t expect the Finn to open up for him either. He stands up then abruptly, walking quickly in front of the smaller personification. The look in his eyes is assuring, even intensely so.

“You have been nothing, but loyal all this time. And as long as that remains, there is no reason for you to suffer for someone else’s foolishness. You have my word”

The tall Russian stares down at him so deeply he has to look away, a flush rising on his cheeks. Tino has never been comfortable with close proximity and long eye contacts.

“You say that. But can I trust your word to be equal to the tsar’s?”

The look in his eyes turns dreary and he shakes his head. “I’m afraid not. But I can promise I can speak to him only for your and the Grand Duchy’s benefit”

An odd feeling rises in Tino from hearing Ivan so determined to stand up for him like that.

“I’m glad to be sure where your loyalty lies. And as I have your back, you’ll have mine” Ivan touches his shoulder, a habit the Finn has grown already familiar with “I’d like to ask you to do something, to show your support”

Tino looks up at him in curiosity.

“In January, the troops will leave for Poland. There will be a unit from Finland joining too. I’d like you to come with them”

That he didn’t expect. Despite how he thought of Polish rebellion, he’s not sure if he’s eager to be involved in actual suppressing of it. But he knows this is a trial for him from Ivan, to see if he means his words.

“I’ll be proud to fight for peace of the empire” he says without hesitation. Of course, he can’t refuse this.

**_1831_ **

_On 25th of January, Polish Sejm declares that Nikolai I has lost the throne of Poland. The tsar has already put his troops on the move, within them Finnish Guards' Rifle Battalion. It was the first time since the era of Swedish Empire that Finnish troops fought again in battle fields of Europe. The mobilization was met with pride and eagerness from both the citizens and the soldiers. There was hardly any repentance or sympathy for the Poles._

It’s nearly April when they reach Polish lands. The long march has been tiring, but his battalion is still in good spirits, the men eager to fight.

It’s been decades since the last time he was battling in central Europe. It almost could be nostalgic, if it weren’t for the fact how different he is now, as are his soldiers. And it’s not the blue and yellow flag anymore that leads them. Their empire’s colors are now white, blue and red, their coat of arms covered by a two-headed eagle instead of a lion.

Tino thinks of himself back then, when he had been younger and brighter, in the white gown that had been designed just for him, proud to fight for Swedish pride. Now, it almost feels like he’s looking at someone entirely another person.

“Your battalion will be on the right flank, to ward off the charge of Polish cavalry” Ivan explains as he moves the pieces on the table “You think they’ll manage it?”

“Without doubt. We’ll hold them off” replies Tino. He’s already having a flashback to the 17th century when wars with Poland had been frequent “It’s not like they’re Hussars anymore”

“The Winged Horsemen are hardly nothing more than a parade now” the Russian answers with a sneering smile “Besides, were it not your cavalry that often bested them as well?”

The Finn nods with pride. His horsemen had gained notable reputation all around Europe back then.

“I still remember that battle cry of theirs. Something like… _hakaa_ …” Ivan ponders out loud.

“ _Hakkaa päälle_ ” Tino clarifies. 

“Yes, that one” the taller personification smiles at him “The right flank of our forces definitely won’t be weak. I have full faith in your men, in _you_ ”

A familiar fervor rises in him, one that used to drive him forward when he and Berwald had stood at their highest. But it’s still different, as now he feels like he only wants to impress the empire leading him instead of the whole Europe. Like he just wants to impress… Ivan.

“I… _we_ won’t let you down” Tino says and wonders since when his hate at the Russian turned to… whatever he is feeling now.

It never fails to astonish him, how a battle is always both so glorious and yet so horribly gruesome. There’s the adrenaline, the zest that comes with the fight and the drive to bring glory for their names. But perhaps even stronger is the terror, the reality of the war that many are not prepared for. Seeing your comrades fall from your side, the blood under your feet and taking a life without a second thought. Despite the centuries of experiencing it all first hand, Tino thinks he’ll never really get used to it.

The battle is a victory for Russia. And a turning point for the Finnish battalion: they gained reputation and honor for their efforts, showing other troops they deserve their rightful in the army and are not a mere parading group there.

The army general praises his men grandly and Tino too feels himself blazing under Ivan’s proud eyes, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

The initial triumph the soldiers might march on to war with never lasts. Despite being successful with their advance, the Poles fought back vigorously. At times they even had to retreat, the rebellion’s force was so powerful. And when a cholera epidemic had rampaged on their forces all summer, Tino had started to doubt that despite the odds, Poland’s uprising might turn even victorious.

But he knows as well Russia will never recognize the kingdom’s sovereignty. It would be too much of a display of weakness. The empire can’t afford to show the West that liberty could win, not over order and security of autocratic rule. The tsar will never, as neither will Ivan, let the lands under him declare independence.

It’s the truth Tino has come in terms with and understands now that only his loyalty can bring his people welfare.

In late summer when they begin the grand offensive to conquer Warsaw.

“We’ll cross _Vistula_ tomorrow. We’ll have the capital within days” Ivan tells him, confident of their plan's succession.

“It will be the decisive battle, won’t it?” Tino wonders out loud. “And then we’ll… go home” he has already grown tired of this war.

“And then we’ll go home” the Russian smiles fondly, joyous for hearing the Finn referring St. Petersburg as his home. Ivan feels, has felt for a while, the spirit of Finland finally lowering down his walls, getting more at comfort with his presence. He can see the autonomy he granted for the northern land has been good for the boy. Or should he say a man? The petite blond has grown in height, his soft face somehow sharpened. He still holds the youthful appearance on him, but no longer looks like a child in Ivan’s eyes. The Russian feels certain pride that he had hand in making the land and its personification grow some handsomely.

He hopes it won’t turn the young man too rebellious with time. He would hate having to suppress him down like Poland.

“But before we attack, we’ll give the Poles one more chance to surrender” Ivan says, dropping his gaze from the Finn on the letter he’s assigning for Feliks Łukasiewicz, personally. He’s not mindlessly cruel. But will not hold back if the rebellion continues.

“I hope they have the sense to accept it. Too many lives have been wasted” Tino replies, voice exuding with bitterness. The third of his battalion have already lost their lives in this war.

“I do wish they’d have their minds clear, that Poland wasn't so eager to throw away their lives away for nothing. But this… insanity from France has fogged his mind” Ivan spits out the last words like he's disgusted. The liberal West just kept pushing their ill influence on him and his subjects, causing nothing but restlessness and disorder.

The Finn next to him is quiet. His eyes are on the ground, thoughtful and anxious. Ivan frowns, unease with his silence. He doesn't doubt Finland's loyalty, but he's not entirely convinced where the land's spirit really stands. It's not entirely on line with traditional values of Russian Empire, but not really with Western Europe either. It's astonishing, that the small northerner seemed to have made a place between there entirely his own. It's obviously a threat, if he's allowed to be too self-sufficient there, but Ivan finds his ability to adapt charming nonetheless.

“When this is all over, what will… happen to Poland?” Tino asks at last. The unsaid question between the line is _what will happen to Feliks’ autonomy?_

“I trust you understand why Nikolai can’t allow the privileges after this”

Tino looks up swiftly, frowning in concern. Ivan answers it with an assuring smile.

“It is not a concern you should worry about. What happens to Poland, will solely concern Poland”

“I see” the Finn replies. Despite how much the spirit of Russia himself tries to convince him, Tino is still not entirely confident his own autonomy will be safe after this.

The offer for surrender is answered with firm refusal. Ivan’s letter is responded with a short note from the personification of Poland, telling the empire ‘can kiss his royal Polish ass’.

“He’s giving us no other option then” Ivan says as he rips the letter to pieces.

The Polish will is unyielding. But despite how resilient it is, the heavily outnumbered side can’t keep up their spirits endlessly under the merciless assault from Russia. 

_They chose their fate._ Tino keeps telling himself as he shoots another man. 

Already in the first day of the battle, Polish defence is breached through. And it’s then when Toris Laurinaitis is caught.

“I thought you would had some better sense than to join his mindless endeavor” Ivan says, face expressionless as he looks down at the Lithuanian on his knees. 

“He wasn’t the only one who’d had enough of your oppression” Toris’ voice is strong, despite how beaten up he looks “And I’m sure, it’s not only the two of us in your house that--”

_“Your actions have done nothing, but disturbed our peace!!”_

Tino jolts from the sudden rise in Ivan’s voice. The man rarely lost his composure like this.

“The tsar wants to bring order and security for his empire, make us a stable force of the east that will thrive. And yet, you want to follow this absurd, anarchical ideology from west--”

“The absurd idea of liberty? Of nations holding their own sovereignty?” Toris snaps back, nearly standing, but the soldiers on his sides push him back on his knees.

“Liberty won’t give you safety nor peace. It will only keep you wanting more until nothing can satisfy you” Ivan doesn’t waver with his words at all.

“Is that not what you’re doing? You’re appetite for more land under your control is ceaseless”

“I only wish to be strong enough to bring prosperity for my whole empire. To be able to protect all of you”

The Lithuanian nearly laughs “Don’t take me for a fool, Ivan. You’re as greedy as any other empire in Europe” 

The Russian narrows his eyes at Toris. “Very well. Think about me whatever you wish. But know that this uprising, it has given you nothing but cost lives of your men”

Ivan walks out after that. Tino stays standing where he is, wants to say something for the Lithuanian he had only few decades ago started to think as his friend. But he finds himself unable to say anything to justify why he is there to help Russia suppress Toris’ and Feliks’ fight for sovereignty.

“I didn’t expect to see you here” it’s Toris who finally speaks up “So you agree with what he said, what he's doing to us?”

“I… I’m only following his orders. I don’t… want to be here” replies Tino. He’s ashamed how meek, unconvincing the tone of his voice is.

“Better join our oppressor than to be oppressed, you mean?” the spite in Toris’ voice is unmistakable.

Tino says nothing to answer that. Regardless of what he says, he knows the damage is already done. He wonders if he’s lost the friendship that only had arisen not long ago.

The Poles start retreating from the city the next day.

Ivan’s eyes glow vindictive as he charges with his soldiers after their retreating enemies. He won’t show mercy on those he sees nothing more than as traitors of the empire. They didn’t listen, didn’t take the fair offer for surrender. Instead, they chose to face the wrath of Russia.

But what enrages him the most is that they have still not caught the personification of Poland himself.

Feliks Łukasiewicz was sly, always managed to slip away from his enemies. But he won’t this time. He’ll face his judgement for the unrest he’s spread in the empire. Ivan has not seen him, but feels his presence, his aura within the poles running for their lives.

“Come with me” Ivan commands the Finn next to him and heads intently the way he feels the rebellious spirit escaping.

They come upon a group of dozens of Poles in western Warsaw. 

“He’s there” Ivan tells his own soldiers as they observe the group from behind. Tino finds the sight pitiful. The desperate men are giving all for their country, trying to lead it’s personification to exile even now when they know how painfully obvious their defeat is. They are still trying to keep alive the will of Poland even if the land itself is lost. The Finn can’t help, but respect that determination.

“Kill the soldiers around him. And be sure you'll capture the spirit of Poland” Ivan orders his men “Finlandiya, your aim for long distance shots is good. You’ll stay here and intervene when needed” 

A heavy sense of guilt pressures down on Tino as he takes his place while Russians start their attack.

It’s a miserable fight: the tired Poles do not see the approaching enemies and half of them fall before they even manage to start properly fighting back. Those left battle fiercely, doing everything they can to cover the escape of their nation’s personification.

And miraculously, it seems for a moment like Feliks might even get away as he runs ahead, his soldiers still standing stubbornly, not letting a single Russian through to get after him. Tino clenches the gun in his hand, he knows he’ll have a straight shot from his place at the Pole. But his hands are shaking. And he realizes he doesn't want to do this.

“ _Tino, shoot him!!_ ” it’s Ivan yelling at him and when he turns his gaze on him, their eyes meet. The look in Ivan's is frantic, pressuring. And judgmental. And Tino realizes this, right now, is the final trial of his loyalty for Russia.

For a second, Tino only closes his eyes, swallowing the lump of guilt in this throat and his trembling hands steady. He resolves that for this moment, he'll only to think of his own autonomy, of the good for his people and forget any empathy he might hold for Feliks. 

He turns off his conscience and fires.


	3. Chapter 3

**_1833_ **

_The new capital had flourished well in two decades. Helsinki had turned to a centre of administration, education and industry of Finland, it’s population rising stably._ _The city had been planned to be rebuilt completely, designed by a German architect who had moved there in 1816 to begin his work he had taken high pride of._ _By now, already a few of his designs had been finished. But his greatest pride, a large white cathedral that would rise from the middle of the square, so high it would stand out notably from the rest of the city and could be easily seen from approaching ships at the sea, had only just begun to be built._

Tino walks by the Senate square, proudly looking at the modern constructions. Finally, his capital too had started to look like a proper, civilized European city. And when the Cathedral will be ready, the place will truly be a glorious sight, something he can show off to other personifications with pride.

It doesn’t take long for him to reach the harbor from there.

Few years have passed since he went to Poland, to suppress the uprising that had shaken all eastern side of the empire. Ever since, Nikolai I had continued to tighten his hold on his subjects, ensuring that no land under his rule would rise up like that again.

Still, the tsar had not changed with his regards of Finland. Even though at start, he had been reluctant to recognize the Grand Duchy’s privileged state granted by Alexander I. In the end Nikolai I had complied to not to change the self-governing state of the land. So despite the increasing control from the empire, Tino was glad to be able to keep his autonomy.

Something that Feliks had not after his rebellion.

He had been dragged away from Warsaw raging and screaming, with a bleeding bullet wound on his back. Tino had only watched quietly from the sidelines, swallowing all the shame, the quilt that he felt like were suffocating him.

“It had to be done” Ivan had whispered next to him, face void of any expression. “Tsar sees you now as a trusted and faithful subject for the empire. You have his respect”

He had not felt proud at all.

What was clear now for sure was that Feliks hated him. He didn’t talk to him apart from the basic, forced greetings, kept glaring at him viciously and seemed to take the chance to scoff at or mock him whenever he had the chance.

Tino can’t blame him for that spite. The Finn has settled it’s better to keep distance from the Pole, to ignore him. He’s not sure how he could even look in his accusing eyes, face his own quilt reflecting there.

And it was not only Feliks who held the grudge against him. Toris doesn’t think him as a friend anymore. The green eyes looked at the Finn now only with bitterness, betrayal and the pleading gaze in them seemed to ask him: _why?_ But the Lithuanian doesn’t question him, hardly even talks to him anymore.

The others too seem somehow... aloof of him. Like they’re more aware of his special state in the empire now. Like his position is so higher than theirs that he’s not one of them. Fortunately, there’s Eduard, still being there as his best friend, same as always. But even with him at times, there’s a kind of… drift between them. A drift that leaves him feeling alienated. And drives him towards leaning increasingly on Ivan.

Horn from the approaching ship stirs him from his thoughts and Tino moves immediately, accompanied by several soldiers and governor general of Finland. They are here to receive the tsar, along with the spirit of Russia. 

Many of his citizens are gathered near the harbor, to have a glimpse of their great ruler. They seem excited, proud.

As his people, Tino feels their strong zest, his heart beating wildly his chest. And a part of him, even if he can’t properly admit it for himself, is eager to show off Ivan how glorious his city has grown so quickly. He doesn’t understand why, but there’s a strong drive in him that just wants to impress the Russian. 

  
  


“I must admit I didn’t expect your capital to have become so… gracious” Ivan says, admiring the architecture, the familiar style of the neoclassical empire that dominates the streets of St. Petersburg as well.

“The German architecture is very good. He is quite keen on the project, to get an opportunity to design a city to be nearly completely rebuilt”

“What a fortune. I will look forward to see his work finished”

“As do I…” Tino feels his chest puffing with pride. It makes him a little daring. “I bet it will put St. Petersburg as second, of the most fairest cities in the empire”

“ _Oh?_ Perhaps it will...” Ivan smiles shortly at his blustering. “But it is not my capital that I admire the most”

“You don’t? Which city is it then?”

“Moscow” 

They walk behind the soldiers following the tsar and general governor, from a short distance that gives privacy for their conversation.

“Nikolai seems pleased” the Russian muses out loud after a moment of silence.

“I hope it’s enough to keep… things from changing here” Tino can’t help, but voice, once again, his fear for what might happen to his land’s self-governing state.

The taller personification looks at him with some sort of disappointment, like he’s upset that the Finn still does not trust his word. “I’ve told you already, he has no reason to…”

“I will only believe it when he says it himself” Tino interrupts.

Rest of the way, there’s no conversation between them anymore.

The tsar’s stay in Helsinki is not long, only a few days, but all the more important. Tino knows it’s vital that Nikolai I can see himself that the people here are only but loyal, faithful subjects of his. And will continue that way.

When the tsar and Ivan start their journey back home with their escort, Tino leaves with them. As he watches the furthering view of the city, homesickness is already filling him.

“You were a good host” Ivan says as he steps beside him.

“Thank you” the Finn replies, not taking his eyes of the sight. Helsinki truly looks beautiful from the sea.

“One of the counsellors did complain though”

“Did he?” Tino glances at his companion, both in doubt and curiosity.

“Not of the visit itself. Just about the… status of the Grand Duchy”

A cold thread rises in him. If a man of that high position had talked to the tsar in ill manner of his land, questioned it’s privilege…

“Would you like to know what Nikolai had to answer for him?”

Tino nods cautiously, trying to keep his calm. His hands are nearly shaking already.

“He said… in these exact words… _leave Finland alone. That is the only province in my empire that has not given me a minute worth of worry_ ”

For a moment, Tino can only stare, speechless. “... _huh?_ ”

Ivan has to hold himself back from just laughing at the baffled blond. The awestruck expression of his is just adorable. The Russian reminds himself to try to surprise the other more often.

“What I mean is, I think your autonomy is quite safe with him”

**_1835_ **

His life in St. Petersburg continues on its usual track.

Tino and others in the house do their tasks and govern their lands’ business to the degree they’re allowed. They keep their heads low, even if all of them can feel vividly the rise of their people’s nationalism inside them. They know they can’t afford to show it, not under the eyes of the spirit of Russia.

“Try it one more time, you almost got it right…” Eduard pressures him on. It’s their evening off the week, them spending it again with the past time they’ve grown very fond of lately: reciting poems in their native tongues. Or more closely, singing them.

“And I was thinking it’d be as easy as I was speaking my language! I mean, I kind of understand it, but…”

“Considering you had to speak Swedish for so long you nearly forgot your own language, it’s understandable you don’t remember Estonian anymore…”

“Still, it shouldn’t be this hard!” the Finn huffs in frustration. He still remembers when they were little, how easily they had learned each other’s tongues so they always understood one another. But then Denmark had taken Eduard and he had gone with Berwald to Stockholm. Their roads had separated for hundreds of years before Swedish Empire had grown and taken Estonia under its wing. Back then it was the common language they spoke with each other. Or Swedish. And now, they were together again, under the rule of a different empire, re-learning Finnish and Estonian.. History really does flow in curious ways.

“But I’ll try, once more…” Tino breathes in deeply, closing his eyes and he tries to recall the poem the Estonian taught for him.

_“Silmalauge... vesi valgus_

_Laiaks loiguks lagedalle,_

_Loigust tõusis tiiri... tiigikene,_

_Tiigist jälle… järvi... järvekene_

_Linda pisarate loiku…”_

He is so immersed in the phrasing he doesn’t see Eduard’s palened face, his frightened eyes on the doorway before the Estonian whispers to him sharply “Tino, stop… _stop!_ ”

Tino looks at his friend in doubt, but then hears the slow, heavy clapping behind him. It's unsettling.

“Beautiful. That was Estonian I believe?”

 _Of course it had to be Ivan._ He curses mentally.

“It… was just a word game. Just to pass time” he says, trying to sound casual. But his voice betrays him.

“Those are fun, aren’t they?” the Russian smiles, but as always, the Finn is not sure at all if it’s sincere. “Well, I’m afraid I have to interrupt. There is something I wish to speak to you about. Alone”

Ivan walks out, obviously expecting him to follow. Tino glances at his friend assuringly, to not have him worry too much. Eduard forms words with his mouth without saying them out loud: _Be careful._

He walks after Ivan.

“So poetry then?” the Russian takes his place behind the table, crossing his legs. The violet eyes stare at him without a blink. But they’re not angry. And yet, Tino finds it arduous to hold the gaze.

“I… we were… just musing them out loud, for entertainment” in fact, they’ve done it for weeks now. And everytime, they seemed to get more passionate about them. The poems, the songs… they always swept them away, had their hearts rising in zest and pride with their people. Such thoughts which the empire would find dangerous.

Ivan keeps only looking at him without a word. The moment lingers on for so long Tino starts to feel uncomfortable. He has to look away.

“You still fear me” Ivan says quietly, at last.

The Northerner looks up, feeling all the more insecure. He doesn’t know what he expected, but certainly not that “I trust the goodwill of the empire. But I-I can’t deny I have my doubts whenever my people express… pride for themselves”

“But that pride is essential for who we are, is it not?”

It puzzles him how Ivan manages to surprise him even further.

“From what I understand, Nikolai rules by three principles: Orthodoxy, autocracy and nationality. A-and… when my people glorify their ancestry, define themselves as apart from Russia, does that not… stand against every one of those principles?”

The ashen haired man keeps looking at expressionlessly. Tino is afraid he has talked himself into an even worse situation now.

“They still bow to my tsar, follow his rule. And as long as that continues to be so, you do not need to be concerned for holding pride for who you are” the tone of Ivan’s voice is strangely gentle. 

The two personifications look at each other quietly, trying to understand one another.

“The Imperial Academy sent a gift for you from Helsinki” Ivan breaks the silence, reaching for his drawer. He takes out a book. Tino briefly wonders how it had ended up in Ivan’s drawer instead with him… “A man named Lönnrot has written this. Perhaps the name is familiar for you?”

“Yes, he’s a scholar who’s gained notable reputation in a short period. Both in medicine and literature”

“Then you will surely like to hear of this latest… project of his” the Russian opens the book he’s holding, eyeing the text curiously. “I believe this collection of poetry… seems like a national epic of some sort”

Tino’s eyes widen, flush rising on his cheeks. He can’t quite hide his excitement.

Opposite him, Ivan smiles fondly. “I can’t of course understand a single word of it. I wonder as well how it sounds… mused out loud…” there’s a gleam in his eyes as he looks at Tino, expectantly.

“You… you wish me to… read it for you?”

“I admit I was a little jealous of that… game of yours and Estonia’s. I’d like to try it too. I am afraid there’s not much Russian folklore I have actually taught you yet, have I?”

“No…”

“Would you like to do it then? Few times a month, an evening devoted to exchange of poetry and stories?”

“That… I'll be happy to do it” the Finn is genuine with his words. Ivan seems not to be upset at all with his nationalism, on the contrary he seems even curious about it.

“I am the most glad to hear that” Ivan stands up, walking to his side. He raises his hand, gently to stroke Tino’s arm “Let us grow the bond between our united land and between ourselves”

It is how they began their strange pastime of cultural exchange.

It starts with simple stories of their childhood. Ivan tells him of the time when it was just him and his sisters, them together representing Kievan Rus’. And Tino learns that since the beginning, the spirit of Russia has been surrounded by wars and violence. It’s a far more comfortless childhood than his own. He had been blissfully ignorant of the cruelty of the world, unaware of what he exactly was. It hadn’t been until that trading trip to Estonia and meeting Eduard, when he had finally learned of his strange existence. And not long after, Vikings with the spirits from Scandinavia had followed. He had not been in peace ever since that. The Crusades, the constant war of Sweden and Novgorod, the kingdom Ivan had been back then, over his lands had woken him up to how cruel the world could truly be.

It was bizarre that now it was with Russia his land finally seemed to be at peace again.

With reminiscing their time as younger nations, comes the tales, songs of their people, those they can hardly remember. But this era of admiring Romanticism seems to have awakened those memories, the myths of heroes and gods uncovering from their minds.

“...so this man, he sang to his rival until he sank… into a swamp?” Ivan questions him, hardly being able to contain himself from laughing. The story is so odd.

“Yes! And then he made _Joukahainen_ promise his sister to become his wife” and yet, the Finn spoke of it with so much pride he hardly seemed to question all the strangeness of the story. “But before he could wed her, she… killed herself” the northerner’s smile falls right away, his eyes turning sad and hazy. Ivan doesn’t feel amused either anymore, the expression of him too changed to sorrow as the tale took a sudden tragic turn.

“She rather drowned herself than marry an old man she doesn’t even know” Tino ponders out loud “It is a tragedy, really. That it was the only way she could find her liberty”

“Liberty in death” Ivan whispers.

“She didn’t die, not really. She went to liver underwater, her soul taking form of a fish”

“... _huh?_ ” the Russian finds following the story to have become quite a task at this point.

“ _Väinämöinen,_ he almost cut her to pieces when he was fishing, fortunately she jumped away before he did… but the man learned from his mistakes, after what he did he told other men not to go after too young wives”

“...I see” Ivan says, baffled, but does see the morale of the story.

The Finn leaves his premises soon after, the evening late already.

“Thank you for your company, Finlandiya. It was a pleasure”

The blond smiles shortly, shifting from one foot to another, eyes downcast. Like he’s feeling timid of something “I… I don’t mind if you’d call me by my name… my _human name_ I mean” he says at last, a slight blush on his cheeks.

Ivan's eyes widen, the request was certainly unexpected. But all the more pleasant. He understands the meaning of it: it seemed, Finland finally had accepted him truly as a friend. Trusted him. The recognition fills him with warmth.

“I’ll gladly do that. But only if you call me Ivan”

Tino is surprised how quickly those evenings become something he starts to look forward to. Initially, he had felt rather stiff and nervous, wondering which sort of stories the Russian would see as the dangerous kind of national thinking, as a threat to the tsar’s autocracy. But Ivan seemed always only curious of whatever he had to tell, smiling admiringly when he introduced another Finnish custom or manner for the Russian.

Those evenings have become some comforting haven for them, where no politics, wars or any miseries of the real world can reach them. As in those moments, it’s only myths, stories and songs between them. And vodka.

“Who taught you to drink like that?” Ivan laughs out loud as the Finn sitting opposite him gulps down another shot.

“I did” replies Tino, proudly “Started back when I was… in Kalll...mar union-” the strong drink has got to his head quickly though “-used to get wasted with Denmark all the time”

“That explains” Ivan chuckles. He seems surprisingly clear-headed, despite the bottle between them being nearly empty.

“How are you so… sober?” Tino hiccups.

“This is Russian water! I’m afraid I need a lot more than this to… get where you are” the Russian’s eyes look him up and down in amusement.

“Is that a challenge?” the Finn remembers then how easily he riles up, how daring he can become once drunk.

Ivan only laughs louder. “Perhaps another time” he stands up, heading where Tino sits.

“But for tonight you’ve had enough” before the smaller personification can even react, Ivan has thrown his arm around his shoulder, starts dragging him away.

Tino doesn’t really protest. His head is spinning and he’s quite sure a few more drinks would have him crawling.

 _I’ve got to step up my game, saatana._ He sets his mind to the goal that one day he can drink Russia too under the table.

Ivan walks him to his room, laying him down gently on his bed.

“Shit, it’s like I’m riding a horse on full gallop…” Tino curses, closing his eyes, hand on his forehead.

“I’ll fetch you some water” Ivan says. He thinks the Russian brushes lightly his cheek, but he’s not sure.

When he opens his eyes again, the sun shines already. And he has a splitting headache.

**_1837_ **

_The Era of Romanticism flourishes all over Europe. Russian Empire too is enchanted with mystics, folktales and most important of all, poetry. Despite the strict control and autocratic rule of the tsar, it is a Golden Age for Russian literature._

The fire crackles quietly in the fireplace.

It’s late January, the winter at its coldest. The large drawing room of the house is the only place where one can get comfortably warm now. The eight personifications have all gathered there, passing their time with card and board games. It’s only the lord of the house that’s missing.

“Your turn, Liet” Feliks says, as Toris next to him shows no sign of making his move, his eyes and focus on his cards, calculating his chances.

“Sorry” the Lithuanian startles a bit and hastily places his card on the top.

Tino smiles behind his three cards left. Just the right one he had been waiting for.

“I won” he says as he puts them on the top of the deck. 

“Well played, _lapdog_ ” the green eyed blond compliments the Finn, but his voice is sneering. The nickname he fondly uses is something Tino hears often now. His growing friendly relations with Ivan hadn’t gone unnoticed by the others. He had asked several times, very demandingly so, for Feliks to address him with his formal country name, but it seemed, the Pole saw no reason to respect his wishes at all. If it wasn’t Ivan himself ordering him (whom he hardly obeyed either), Feliks wouldn’t give up his mocking. But Tino would definitely not ask the Russian to intervene, he’d only feel he was living up to that degrading pet name.

“No need to be such a bitter loser” Eduard calls out from the other side. The Estonian did his best to stand up for his friend, but his word hardly mattered to the Pole either.

“At least I’ll lose with pride and dignity, not… fawn in front of anyone”

Tino had been content to stay quiet, but not anymore. “Smart person will give consent to give in with something, to the benefit of a better future”

Feliks raises his eyebrows. “A better future? Under someone’s boot?” 

“Feliks, stop” Toris cuts in.

“Can we just continue the fucking game?” the spirit of Belarus shouts out sharply.

Natasha’s warning is enough for the quietness to settle between them again and the game goes on.

An hour later, they hear the front door being opened. 

“Welcome home, brother” Katyusha says as Ivan comes to stand on the doorway of the drawing room.

He says nothing at first. His eyes are hasty and glum, his posture lacking its usual confidence. His whole bearing seems to hold some sort of… melancholy.

“I shall retire early. Spend the evening as you wish” Ivan turns around, heading upstairs without another word.

The silence he leaves behind lingers on for a long while.

“I suppose this means no supervising tonight?” Feliks smirks.

“I guess… He seemed like he doesn’t feel like leaving his room tonight” replies Toris. 

“Awesome. I’ll get the vodka. Got a bottle stored in my room”

“How do you have it at yours? I don’t think we’re allowed-” Katyusha asks disapprovingly.

“I stole it, of course” The Pole grins, obviously proud of his achievement.

The Ukrainian eyes him with judgement, but doesn’t go further to scold him. 

It’s a drinking game they play next. But the Finn finds himself unable to concentrate, his mind on the dreary look Ivan had arrived with. He can’t stop thinking what had made the Russian seem so miserable. Tino wonders how had their… friendship... already come this far: that he worries this much.

“I’m… quite tired already” he says finally as he just can’t sit there anymore “and I have a lot of paperwork tomorrow. Don’t want to risk being hangover” Tino stands up, leaving the room before anyone asks any questions.

“Goodnight” they call after him. All except Feliks. He looks at the Finn’s retreating back eyes narrowed, mind in doubt.

Knock at the door fazes Ivan from his thoughts. He’s taken down several shots already, but it’s still not enough to numb the aching sorrow of his countrymen.

“Come in”

The person who walks in is the charming blond he’s grown closer in the last few years. The Finn’s company is unexpected, but not unpleasant, the contrary in fact. Ivan smiles fondly “Good to see you, Tino. But I’m afraid I won’t make such good company right now”

“It doesn’t matter. It wouldn’t be fair to… only be there when you’re at your best” his purples eyes are so genuine it’s moving. It’s rare to see a personification with such… open heart.

“Then I am most glad you came here. Come, sit with me” Ivan takes another glass, pouring down a drink.

“I told others I wouldn’t drink anymore tonight, but… one more won’t be that bad” Tino says as he takes the seat opposite him.

“That’s what I say after every new one I’ve taken” Ivan grins. 

They sit in comfortable silence. The Russian knows the other is giving him space, waiting for him to speak up about the matter weighing him down. Ivan has never been one to speak openly of his personal feelings, but with Tino, he feels strangely willing to try it. The spirit of Finland seems to hold no judgement like his other subjects towards him, not anymore.

“Do you remember my favorite poet I told you about?”

The Finn nods. “ _Alexander Pushkin?_ ”

Ivan breathes in deeply, closing his eyes. “He was shot dead in a duel”

His companion's eyes widen slightly before they fall downwards, filled with sorrow.

“I’m sorry for your loss” Tino says quietly “You must mourn him greatly”

“So does all of Russia. Except the court perhaps”

“He was not favored by…?”

“The tsar and the nobility never liked him. Alexander I had him even exiled”

“Oh…” the Finn is surprised the man considered the greatest poet in Russia was not liked by people of higher class. But then again, liberal artists hardly ever were in autocratic empires.

“Tino” Ivan speaks up, cautiously “Could I… ask you for something?”

“Of course” the younger man’s eyes hold only empathy, so willing to offer his support. It's such a blessing, having his faithful friendship. There's not many relationships in his life that feel so genuine.

“I’m glad. And I only ask you to… listen” Ivan says as he takes the book he had been reading. The Russian breathes in deeply and begins reciting _Winter morning_.

_Frost and the sun; a splendid morning!_

_My dear friend, you still lie dormant,_

_It's time, my beauty, rise in cheer:_

_Open your eyelids lulled by night_

_To the splendor of the northern lights_

_And like the northern star appear!_

_Recall the night, the storm was raging..._

By the time he’s finished with the poem, there’s tears on his cheeks. Opposite him, Tino reaches out, placing his hand on top of his.

**_1842_ **

_In Finland, writers’ and academics’ eagerness for their country’s national identity keeps growing. The status of Finnish language improves with the development of the literature and soon all students are learning their native tongue at school too. The national spirit of Finns deepens with Romanticism as the artists all over the country proudly glorify their roots._

The melancholy that always comes with leaving Helsinki, feels even stronger now.

The month-long stay had been full of meetings and travelling around the country. He had met all kinds of folk during the visit: from statesmen to simple peasants. But it was meeting with the writers and artists, the men that had brought this pride that seemed to flourish in all of his people now, that especially had been memorable. Grown up men had looked like they were moved close to tears when Tino had introduced himself for them. He had never felt worshipped like that before. Or such pride for his country.

The last evening of his stay he had spent with two writers, reading poems and telling stories. It’s a ploy he often does with Eduard and Ivan too, but it’s far different when he’s with them. Another land’s personification just can’t stand understand his… Finnishness, not the way his people do. 

He had left with a large pile of books to take home.

 _Home._ Even if the one in St. Petersburg had become something he regarded as such, Tino never felt as at home there as he did in his own land.

But returning there is not really unpleasant, not at all. Because Eduard and others are there, the personifications he now feels are his family, despite all their differences. He is glad to see them, as glad as he is to see Ivan now too. It’s odd, how much he is looking forward to that... Their friendship has grown so deep so quickly.

Tino supposes he is just eager to share all the stories and poems he’s learned during his stay.

  
  


“You’re back” as usual, it’s the Estonian who’s there first to greet him “And I see you brought… quite a lot of some reading with you” he eyes curiously the pile of books Tino places on his table.

“The writers there have… how should I say… got very creative lately, with my language”

Tino reaches from one collection he had received from Lönnrot, hands it to Eduard. His friend browses through the book in awe.

“So this is another collection of Kalevala poetry?”

“Yes, a kind of sister work to his earlier one”

The green eyes scan through the words in admiration. But there’s some sadness in them too.

“What is it?” Tino frowns in concern.

“No, it’s just… I have to admit I’m jealous. Of your people having now their own epic and all”

The Finn puts his hand on Eduard’s shoulder, squeezing lightly “I’m sure you’ll have your own one one day. Soon, I think”

His friend smiles, but his expression still looks somber “You’ll be the first one I’ll read it for”

Tino smiles back. Both of them are growing with their people’s rising pride.

Ring of a bell echoes from downstairs. A cue for them to attend the dinner.

  
  


“Welcome back, Finlandiya. We’ll gladly hear how your stay went and the latest news from the Grand Duchy” Ivan’s voice is nearly affectionate. Tino feels strange warmth from hearing it. He doesn’t miss the quiet scoff from Feliks when he walks past his seat.

“But first of all, I’d like to announce we shall celebrate tonight the 230th anniversary of _Moscow’s Liberation_ ” Ivan continues. Feliks and Toris tense up immediately. It had been Polish-Lithuanian forces that had invaded the city back in the 15th century. And now, two centuries later, here they were, their lands conquered by Russia, sitting here in this house where they were kept like prisoners, celebrating their enemy’s victory over them. It was humiliating.

A silence hangs over the table. Not a bit of excitement in the air Ivan was looking forward to.

“What will we do, brother?” Katyusha asks as no one else seems willing to speak up.

Ivan smiles confidently “Celebrate with my people and of course, hit the best tavern in St. Petersburg”

It’s a lively night. All taverns in the city seem full, the streets crowded with people celebrating their empire. The event itself is not something Tino takes pride for, but all the energy of it, the eagerness, catches on him as well. And the young spirit of Bessarabia, holding tightly on his hand, just seems so excited to be there he can’t help, but share that childish zest.

By their side are Eduard and Ravis, curiously looking around and the city’s fervor seems to be getting them too out of their shells as their eyes gleam.

In front of them, Ivan leads them, his sisters by his side. Every once in a while, he turns to look behind, smiling pleased to see them in such good spirits. And when his eyes land on Tino, he regards the Finn with that fond look he seems to have reserved only for him. Tino wonders why he feels such a flutter in his stomach for that.

In fact, all of them seem cheerful tonight, glad to leave the house and for something that’s not business or politics of the country. All except Feliks.

He had insisted on staying behind, but Ivan had only told him calmly, but firmly that ‘all of them should attend, for the sake of unity of the empire’. Feliks had answered with a spiteful stare, but not argued against it. He knows he’d have to go, hands tied if necessary. 

The Pole only walks quietly behind them, Toris by his side. And not a hint of any positive emotion on his face.

They wander around the city for a long while as Ivan proudly shows off the numerous events all around there, before coming to their final stop, an inn called _The Dancing Lecher_.

“ _This_ is the best tavern in St. Petersburg?” Tino asks, eyebrows raised as he looks around the large place. It’s full of people, all of them intoxicated enough that no one walks evenly, shouting echoing all around and quite many dance already on tables.

“Yes, my personal favourite” Ivan replies as he hands the Finn a pint of ale “You imagined something very different?”

“Yes, I kind of expected something more… sophisticated”

The Russian laughs out loud at his company’s baffled look. His tsars might have brought him the pretentious sophistication from Europe, but at his heart, he’s still as Russian as the millions of his peasants “The delicacy of the court is not all there is. Do you know why this inn is so famous?”

Tino shakes his head.

“Here come people of all classes. Peasants, merchants, even nobility… It’s a place where titles don’t matter. No etiquette, no appearances… Just music, merriness and your preferred drink”

“A place for an escape” Tino contemplates “Are those… Natasha and Katyusha on table?”

Ivan turns his head the way he looks at and smiles “None other. Let’s go cheer them on, shall we?” he places his hand on Tino’s back and gently pushes him on the direction. 

Ivan is close behind him, the tavern is too crowded to keep the personal space Tino prefers. But right now, he doesn’t mind the other’s proximity at all.

The two sisters have gathered quite an audience. And what a show it is: they swing around wildly, hop to the sound of the band and yet look so elegant. The people around holler and whistle, completely taken by the fair, skillful ladies.

Tino claps his hands with the crowd, cheeks flushed from both drinking and heat in the mass of people. And because Ivan still stands so close behind him.

When the two finish their show at last, loud cheer from the whole tavern accompanied by thunderous applause praises them.

“Need some air” Tino tells Ivan when people around them start scattering. He heads outside, to clear his head and calm the oddly fast beat of his heart.

He comes out from a backdoor, feeling the soothing cool of cold November air. Tino breathes it in deeply, closing his eyes. He already feels his head sobering up. 

There’s faint laughter from somewhere further. At the corner of the alley, there’s two men, in mid of some joyful conversation, judging by their happy smiles. The Finn is himself in such a good mood too, he stays there watching them, out of curiosity. He’s always liked to observe people, wherever he is. But after a while, the mood between the men seems to take turn to… something else. The taller of them steps closer, other hand raising to hold the neck of his companion. And leans his face towards the other man.

Tino blushes madly as he realizes he’s witnessing a _very_ private conversation. But he can’t look away.

“It’s on these evenings when men get brave enough to show their true selves” a familiar voice whispers behind him. Tino jolts, hastily looking away from the sight, turning around to face none other than Ivan.

“They… they’re very brave, yes. To risk showing their affection this openly…” he replies, trying to sound indifferent, but it’s hard to hide the breathlessness he feels.

“I wish we lived in braver times, that no one would need to feel they must hide their affection”

“But you… you are a devoted Orthodox, you don’t find it… sinful?”

“I believe marriage is an union of only man and woman, but… there is no sin in love, despite what nature it might be”

Tino nods thoughtfully. He’s honestly surprised with Ivan's answer. He’s seen how strict, how devoted Russia is to its faith, he had expected its spirit to hold the same opinion.

“Well, I do wish no one will tell their wives” the Finn smiles lightly, trying to lighten the mood between them. It is not tense, but still charged with something he can’t put a finger on. The beat of his heart is loud in his ears and he’s somehow afraid to meet the gaze of Ivan. He feels the other staring down on him, like he’s… expecting something. But before he can find out what is the curious atmosphere about, there’s Natasha rushing through the door, her expression tight.

“We have to go home. Poland is out of control”

Ivan sighs heavily, clenching his hands in tight fists and stomps after his sister. Tino trails behind them. He can still vividly feel the swift beat of his heart.

Feliks is shouting loudly, in very obvious Polish at some man who yells back in Russian, face glowing red. Toris is trying to hold him back, but it’s no use.

“Perhaps it’s enough of celebrating tonight” Ivan says, voice full of frustration. He walks briskly on the scene, firmly gripping the screaming Pole and forcibly drags him away, taking him outside. Tino and others follow behind them.

On the carriage ride back to the house, Ivan and Feliks argue and shout at each other the whole time.

**_1844_ **

The air is crispy cold, a kind of weather where the chill of it can reach a man into their core. A typical afternoon of January.

It doesn’t bother Tino the slightest. He only blows warm breath at times on his hands, to keep his fingers from going numb from the freezing temperature. The forest around him is covered in snow all around, the nature quiet in its slumber.

The Finn closes his eyes, breathing in all its beauty. There is nothing like the silent comfort of nature.

“Should have known you’d be here” a familiar deep voice calls behind him. Ivan. “I was wondering where you had disappeared”

He turns around, smiles lightly at his just arrived company. “Sometimes I just… have to get away. From everyone. To only listen to trees and all creatures living here”

“I hope I did not interrupt your moment” Ivan tilts his head curiously “But your friend Estonia was slightly anxious. You’ve been gone for hours”

“Hours?” Tino rises his eyebrows “I guess I lost track of time. It happens sometimes, when I wander around in woods” he knows his daydreaming habits can get quite vivid at times, knows he can lose himself in stories he imagines as he roams the forests.

“A true child of nature, aren’t you?” Ivan’s smile at him is fond and familiar, it causes a strange flutter inside him. Something that seems to happen now all the more often.

“It’s my safe place” Tino explains. A place where no war or politics can reach him.

“It’s a lovely place to escape. But is it not… lonely?”

“Not at all… I might be by myself, but I never feel alone here”

Then it’s only quietness between them. Only a few decades ago, this silence with Ivan would have made him uneasy, but now, it is only a comfortable one, one between two comrades that do not need empty words to fill the space between them. They’re... content with each other’s presence now. Something that Tino finds quite reassuring, as their official roles, appearances, are only an empire and its subject.

But there’s something else too between. Something that rises that warmth and flutter in him when Ivan regards him with a smile no one else can see, when he stands so close Tino can feel his heat. Something he’s just afraid of thinking too much, of what it could mean.

“Despite how much I’d like us to stay to admire all this winter graceness, I think you’ve spent enough time freezing here” Ivan’s words startle him from his thoughts.

“I think I’d manage a whole night out here if I felt like it” Tino hops towards the Russian. “but I must admit, a hot drink in front of fireplace sounds much tempting”

The sweet tea tastes heavenly after a long day spent freezing outside. Tino usually prefers coffee, but now is glad he took Ivan’s recommendation for a drink.

“General Winter seems fond of you” the Russian tells him suddenly. Tino looks at him puzzled, not quite sure what he means.

“I’m comfortable in winter, yes…”

“It amazes me. That he can be such a great ally, yet so mercilessly tormenting…”

“ _He?_ ” 

“Yes, an old man you can see wandering around the frozen fields in the coldest days, or see how he rages within blizzards”

The Finn is still confused. There was… a spirit of winter? He’s heard all sorts of stories, Ivan’s talk might well be one of them. But he has vague memories, of times when he had travelled on the falls of Lapland, that he had thought he’d seen a figure of a man flowing somewhere. He had thought it nothing but his imagination.

“I’m too at comfort in winter. But…” Ivan’s eyes turn hasty, sorrowful. “I prefer warmth. Gentle shine of the sun, mild summer days. I wish I had more of that”

Tino blinks. It’s strange, hearing the Russian speak like this.

“If you could go to a place, any place in the world you can imagine, what kind of place would it be?” he asks. He wants to learn more of what is behind the man’s violet eyes.

Ivan smiles, but it looks melancholic. “A field of sunflowers. Where it’s always warm, and the sky is always blue. And there’s an everlasting peace”

Tino can only stare at him speechless. There is so much to Ivan he’s never known. The man he had in the past only seen as cruel, barbaric, conqueror… He couldn’t have ever imagined his previous enemy had such a simple, peaceful dream.

“Tino, tell me the place you imagine, if it could be anywhere”

The Finn doesn’t need to think long on his answer. “A wooden house in a forest, by a lake. With a sauna”

“That’s not… really far you’d have to go” Ivan rises his eyebrows in amusement.

Tino smiles cheerily. “There’s simply not anything better in the world”

They spend the evening late into night, telling stories and sharing their fondest memories.

“Thank you for tonight. It’s been awhile since someone else than my sisters have kept me company for evening tea”

“It was nice. And I don’t mind… being your company” Tino says and finds it hard to look at Ivan in the eye. There’s heat rising on his cheeks.

“I’m most glad to hear that. Speaking of which… have you ever been to a ballet?”

The sudden question confounds him. “Huh? Um… yes, a few times in Stockholm”

“So you have yet to see proper russian ballet” Ivan notes eagerly “There will be a new play in Mariinsky Theatre in a few days. We shall go”

“Alright…” he honestly does not find ballet to be one of his favorite interests, but can still appreciate the art of it. Cultural experiences are hardly ever unworthy “So it is an evening for us all to…?”

“No, just the two of us this time” Ivan smiles at him in a curious way “I’ll look forward to it. Goodnight and thank you once more, for the company”

“Goodnight…” Tino calls after the Russian. He wonders exactly to what he has promised himself into.

There's a strange tingling in him, an anticipation of kind of the evening. 

He has put on his white tie, a suit he does not wear often. It’s not a look of his preference, but it fits him well, brings elegance to him that’s not normally there.

Tino glances at the clock on the wall. The carriage should be outside to pick them in 10 minutes. He’s always disliked being anywhere at the last moment so he decides to head down already. He tries to make as little noise as he can while leaving his room and walking the corridor, not keen on seeing someone and having to answer too curious questions.

Of course he runs into Feliks. 

The Pole holds a bucket and cleaning tools on his hands. He looks at him up and down, a suspicious frown on his face.

“Where are you off to looking that fancy?”

“I… I have business to attend to, in the city. A… um… a dinner with the Grand Duchy’s delegates” Tino curses his stuttering. He’s never been a good liar.

“Right” the doubtful glare from Feliks proves he was not that convincing “Enjoy your evening. Make sure they will keep licking the tsar’s feet or like, whatever they do that keeps you as the favorite pet” of course, Feliks had to take the chance to insult him.

“Thank you, hope you enjoy your shift of cleaning bathrooms tonight” Tino replies with a sneering smile, enjoying the spiteful look he receives from the Pole. Not keen to hear another insult, he walks away briskly.

Outside, Ivan is already there, as is the carriage.

“Look at you. There will be many ladies with their eyes on you tonight, I’m sure” he says, eyeing his company appreciatively. The Finn flushes at the compliment.

“I think it’s more likely they’ll be looking at you” Tino regrets his words the moment he says them, his blush deepening.

Ivan’s smile only widens. “Don’t be too modest. You hold the European features they admire. Next to you, I’m far too ordinary Russian man for their tastes”

“Well, what you lack in that you’ll make up with your height, broad shoulders and that angular face” he realizes too late his words were far too flattering and he can’t hold Ivan’s gaze anymore in his embarrassment. _He just can’t keep his mouth shut, can he?_

“Aren’t you fawning tonight” the Russian laughs and opens the carriage door for him “Be sure to use that charm of yours on ladies. You’ll swipe them right off their feet”

The ride to the theatre passes with Ivan introducing him to the history of Russian ballet, teaching him the names of most famous dancers and composers. His eyes shine, his gestures unusually lively as he explains. Tino can tell he admires deeply the art of the dance. And it feels special, that Ivan wants to share such a valued thing of his with him.

The theatre of St. Petersburg is as grand and gracious as the city itself. The people are all in their finest outfits, but it’s not really too posh. Ivan had explained the theatre was open for anyone who could afford a ticket and offered places with low pricing too. 

“Art is a joy anyone should afford to enjoy” he had said with pride.

  
  


Their seats are on the top floor of the auditorium, in a private opera box. It gives an intimate ambiance that only increases Tino’s already present nervousness.

“Do not sit yet” Ivan advises him as he attempts to take his seat.

“Huh?”

“An audience will not sit before the tsar has entered his box”

The Finn can only nod, dazed with the strict Russian etiquette he’s still not entirely familiar with. They stand for a long while before Nikolai I finally walks in with all his gracefulness and the audience sits down, nearly in unison.

He’s been in ballet plays before, but this… it’s nothing like those he saw in Stockholm. Only now, seeing it with his own eyes he understands why the art is so prestigious here. The dancers move with such precise steps and gracefulness it’s like they’re nearly otherworldly creatures moving on the stage. The whole audience seems enchanted by them.

As does Ivan. When Tino glances at him, he follows the play intensively, eyes nearly shining. Tino can’t help, but just stare at the Russian for a moment, as he feels like he’s discovered a whole new side of him. An admirer of arts, a dreamer. 

His gaze does not go unnoticed.

“As much as I appreciate your admiration of my jawline, I’m sure the play is far more entertaining to watch” Ivan whispers, the corner of his mouth rising.

Quickly, Tino turns his gaze away, blushing furiously.

The story danced on stage carries him away from his own thoughts. Lately have had too much on the Russian next to him.

The interlude comes sooner than they realize.

“That was… incredible… I understand now why your ballet has the reputation it does” Tino says breathlessly as they walk out.

“I’m glad you’ve found the beauty of it” Ivan smiles and rises his hand. Tino expects it on his shoulder as usual, but it lays on his back instead, between his shoulder blades. The flutter in him, that’s been there all evening, increases.

“Shall we go socialize a bit?” Ivan nods on the direction where two ladies glance at them curiously.

“I’ll go for the shorter, brunette one” Tino replies, trying to sound confident and not show his company how distracted he is with the other so close to him.

The two Russian girls are endlessly flattered with their company. They blush and giggle, flutter their eyes at them. Tino and Ivan play along to their flirtations.

He is surprised how easily Russian comes on his tongue now, even if heavily accented. The girl is only charmed by it, praises his skills and can’t seem to get enough to know more of his homeland. When the bell rings for the play to continue, he has convinced both of them to make a trip to Helsinki for next summer.

They go to their seats again and when the lights dim, Ivan turns to look at him, a fond look on his face.

“Tino, your company… it’s such a pleasure. And I do not speak only for tonight. For always. My house, it… I’d be far lonelier without you there” he whispers, a genuine affection in his eyes “I hope for our relationship to stay this… special. As special as is the one between the empire and the grand duchy”

Tino feels like his heart skips a beat as he looks at the Russian. Ivan’s eyes have captivated him. It’s dark, but the violet irises seem to be glowing, even if it’s only the light from the stage reflecting on them.

“I… I wish so as well” he says breathlessly, unable to look away even when the play begins.

Ivan replies with a smile and reaches his hand towards him, putting it on his knee, squeezing lightly. He turns his gaze away. But his hand stays where it is.

Tino feels himself freeze with the contact. The hand feels heavy on his knee, but warm. He expects Ivan to move it away soon enough. But he doesn’t.

The gesture doesn’t feel like one between friends, it’s too intimate. It feels more like… Tino doesn’t dare to think further and brushes it off as Russian manner of friendship he has not yet learned of.

It would have been easy to think of it as nothing more than that.

But then Ivan had started moving that hand. It starts with a slight tap of the fingers, barely noticeable, but Tino is so tense he feels every light touch now.

The tapping goes on for a long moment, so long that he gets used to it, feels his rigidness loosening a bit. And that’s when the tall fingers start to stroke him instead and any attention he had on the play anymore is gone.

But Tino keeps his eyes firmly on stage, afraid to look up at Ivan, afraid to face the allure that feels now maddeningly real. The stroking fingers move from his knee to the inner of his leg and he nearly gasps, going tense. But Ivan’s hand doesn’t go away and he keeps it there firmly, even when Tino tries to move his leg away. The Finn finds himself unable to concentrate on anything, but the fingers stroking his leg, drawing little circles there that give him shivers and rise the heat inside him.

For the whole play, Ivan keeps stroking him, from up of his knee, to the very inner of his thigh, near where Tino feels his suit now to be far too tight.

It feels like hours before the play finally ends and Ivan moves his hand away as they join the applause.

  
  


“I have to use the men’s room” Tino mutters the moment they walk out the auditorium.

“Of course, I’ll be waiting outside” Ivan has the audacity to smirk at him as he heads away quickly.

He throws cold water on his face three times and spends a long while just standing there, calming himself down. He doesn't know what to think, what to feel. Ivan had certainly crossed a line tonight. But he’s not sure if he is truly upset with it. Just… uncertain.

All his confidence he managed to gain back, crumbles the moment he walks out and meets Ivan’s eyes.

“Took your time, didn’t you?” he smiles and Tino's eyes fall on the floor, blush rising on his cheeks.

“There… there was a line” he lies and steps past the taller personification, eyes still downcast.

The carriage ride back home is quiet and awkward. Tino keeps firmly looking out the window, not willing to meet the gaze he feels on him all the way back to the house.

Afterwards, Ivan doesn’t bring up what happened at Mariinsky Theatre at all.

If anything, Tino thinks the Russian’s attitude towards him has somehow... coldened. He seems to be keeping his distance now, hardly personally regarding the Finn anymore at all. No more smiles shared, no casual touches on his shoulder or back. And ever since that evening, a month ago now, he has not asked Tino to share stories or poems with him anymore.

Weeks are nothing in their eternal lives, but lately, they have felt tortuously long. Tino feels the new distance between them maddeningly frustrating.

He wants… _needs_ to know what Ivan had meant touching him like that. But he’s afraid to ask it. Afraid to put in words the charged energy between them he’s noticed for a while, long before that evening at the ballet. What if he had just misunderstood? Or if Ivan was just… toying with him? Whatever it is, Tino knows the only way he’ll find out is swallowing his pride and directly asking from Ivan himself.

Or just let it be, go on pretending there never happened that something between them.

But Tino feels that really is not an option at all as he can’t stop thinking about the evening. Can’t stop thinking of Ivan’s hands on him nearly every night. 

The dreams were first just repeating the memories in his head. But soon, they had turned bolder. In his dreams, Ivan did not only touch his knee and thigh, also where he ached the most. Or in some, followed him into the men’s restroom, to finish what he started. Or, when they came home, invited him to his chambers. And there they’d go even further.

Those dreams always leave him with heavy shame. He’s mortified how badly now he longs for that touch.

  
  


“I am off to the city for a few days” Ivan tells them of his leaving, already heading out “I have no unfinished work here so consider this… a short holiday”

“How very generous of you” Feliks snorts.

The Russian settles for only glare at the Pole and looks at the others with a fawning smile.

“Hope you all will have a relaxing time here while I’m away” and then, for a short moment, his eyes land on Tino, an unreadable expression on his face, before he walks away.

It’s enough to fasten Tino’s heartbeat and have his nerves all tangled.

Ivan is already outside when he decides that he will get over his insecurity and talk to the Russian.

“Ivan… wait” he’s almost on his horse when Tino reaches him.

“Yes? What it is?” the look on his face doesn’t show anything. Only a hint of curiosity reflects in his eyes.

“I… can we… talk, when you come back? I mean, privately” Tino blushes and curses how he feels like a girl just out of age, talking to a man she has a hopeless crush on.

Something flashes in his eyes, but the Finn can’t make out what it is. Ivan smiles down at him, like he’s proud “Of course, I’ll look forward to it. I shall expect you at my premises after I’ve returned”

Then he urges his horse forward, waving at the younger blond man and gallops away.

Tino stays standing where he is, both anxious and excited.

  
  


“You’re not concentrating” Eduard plainly tells him as he wins yet again the game.

Tino blinks, only now realizing the Estonian had done the checkmate.

“Sorry, it’s just… I feel bit distracted today”

Eduard rises his eyebrows, looking at him knowingly. “You’ve been distracted the past month. Got something special on your mind?”

 _Yes, someone._ He doesn’t voice his thoughts aloud. He thinks up the first excuse that comes to his mind. “It’s the language question. Lot of going on with that lately, I feel like my head is full of new words all the time”

It’s not entirely a lie. The eagerness his people had now towards Finnish kept giving new verbal knowledge more than he could almost handle. But he didn’t mind - it was such a joy to see his native tongue develop from a simple peasant language to a proper sophisticated one.

“I feel you. It’s the same with Estonians… That reminds me! I haven’t told you something yet”

Tino looks at his friend curiously.

“There’s a national epic being written” Eduard smiles proudly “For Estonia”

“Really?” he asks, eyes wide. His friend nods briskly. “Eduard, that’s… amazing! I’m so happy for you!” The Finn throws his arms around the other, feels joyous on his behalf.

“I can’t wait to read it”

They hop downstairs cheerily, both singing in their own languages, but to the same tune. With Eduard, it is so easy to be. His oldest and dearest friend without whom it'd be much lonelier here. It’s such a blessing to have him under the same roof, to share all his joy and sorrow with.

But what happened with Ivan he doesn’t feel comfortable to share even with Eduard.

They head towards the kitchen, to grab a few snacks no one will notice missing. They don’t expect to run to another pair of personifications there. The discreet, but still so obvious couple in the house, the spirits of Poland and Lithuania.

Toris leans against the wall where Feliks has pressed him against, the blond pushing his tongue in his mouth and other in his pants. The Pole only glances slightly with his other eye at the intruders, corner of his mouth rising and only proceeds to press himself closer on his partner.

Tino and Eduard only stand there dumbfounded before they walk away quietly, as Feliks’ side-eye turns to a glare with an obvious message: _can’t you see you’re interrupting something?_ Toris doesn’t seem to even take notice of their presence at all, his eyes closed and moaning.

“Oh god, that picture is now forever imprinted in my mind…” Eduard says, cheeks flushed. “Why couldn’t they just go to their rooms…”

“It was probably Feliks’ idea. To be wild and rebellious when Ivan’s not here” Tino rolls his eyes. The Estonian glances at him slightly with a frown as he hears his friend speak of Russia with his human name. It’s oddly personal.

  
  


Tino lies on his bed, eyes wide open and stares at the roof. It’s the evening when Ivan should be returning from his work trip. But it’s nearly midnight already and he wonders if he’s staying up for nothing. He’s been on edge all day, anxiously waiting and knows he can’t fall asleep even if he wanted to.

He dozes off as another hour passes. 

Creaking of stairs awakens him. The sound of steps comes closer, stopping when they’re close enough that must be right in front of his door. Tino holds his breath and waits for it to open. It doesn’t. He only hears the steps again, now walking away. And soon, another door opening and being closed.

Tino wonders if he should just let it wait until tomorrow as Ivan must be tired… But he’s sick of waiting and knows he won’t sleep at all if he doesn’t get to say something, even if it’s only to welcome back the Russian and tell him goodnight. He can settle with that.

Briskly, the Finn gets up from his bed.

His heart beats as fast as the rhythm of his swift knock on the door. After a moment, it opens and Ivan stands there, gently looking at him.

“I thought you’d be asleep. Well, I do not mind your company at all…” he says and holds the door open as Tino walks in.

Only the light dim of the candle on his table gives a bit of light in the room. As usually, there’s a bottle of vodka there. Ivan reaches for another glass from the cupboard.

“Would you like to-”

“Yes” Tino replies hastily. He really needs a drink right now. His nerves are on edge.

The ashen haired man smiles shortly and fills the glass. He leaves on the other side of the table where Tino has sat down. He takes his seat, puts his hands crossed above the table.

“I assume you wished to speak to me about something… private?” as always, Ivan’s expression doesn’t reveal anything.

Tino breathes in and takes a gulp of his drink. _Here we go._

“What am I to you?” he decides, going straight to the point will not leave him with more questions.

At first, Ivan is only silent, looking at him contemplating. Tino starts to wonder if this confrontation was a good idea at all.

“Formally, you are my subject. But I do not think you meant to ask of that”

Tino shakes his head. Ivan’s gaze on him turns intenser.

“You have become… very special for me. And a dear friend”

 _You couldn’t have answered anymore vaguely._ Apparently, he has to push the Russian if he wants a proper answer out of him.

“Do you touch your friends like you touched me at the Mariinsky theatre?”

Ivan’s eyes widen slightly, as if he’s surprised with the Finn’s straightforwardness. The two personifications stare at each other in silence, measuring one another, trying to make sense of what is between them. Ivan’s eyes turn away, looking at the candle on the table. He chooses his words carefully.

“I think you know the answer to that already. But the question is, did it make you feel uncomfortable?”

Tino closes his eyes, gathers his courage. “No”

Another moment of silence passes between them. They both know there will be no going back to their simple friendship after this.

“And what would you do, if I did it again?”

Tino feels his heart skip a beat and he looks up briskly, his eyes meeting Ivan’s who has turned his gaze on him again. The violet irises seem a shade darker and his pupils dilated.

“I… I wouldn’t stop you” Tino answers, breathless.

Ivan stands up so quickly he flinches. The Russian walks to his side and touches his arm firmly, pressuring him to stand up. Tino complies, rising unsteadily. The other is so close he can feel his breath. Ivan holds him by his shoulders, stares down on him deeply.

“I must admit, it is not only your friendship I desire anymore” his voice is thick with want. “But by god, please tell me if you feel any uncertainty at all if you’re ready for this”

The Finn rises his shaking hands, to touch Ivan’s arms holding him. “I’m sure... I want this”

Ivan keeps looking down at him, looking for any hint of regret in his eyes. Tino holds that gaze, without a slightest of hesitation or insecurity. The hands holding his shoulders squeeze tighter and Ivan leans down, lips pressing on his. 

The kiss starts gentle, exploring. Tino feels all gauzy inside, the heavy uncertainty he’s carried for weeks finally gone. He rises on his toes, arms going around the broad shoulders and presses closer, opening his mouth. An invitation.

Ivan groans and starts pushing him backwards, until his back hits the wall. The force of it is almost painful. As he gasps, the Russian pushes his tongue inside. The initial gentleness is gone, the kiss turned quickly to intense heat and fervour. Ivan’s hands roam all around him, fumbling with his shirt until he gets to touch his skin. His other hand goes downward, reaching where he aches the most. 

For one short moment, insecurity fills him. No man has ever touched him like this. But when Ivan starts stroking him, he forgets all his hesitation. He moans and holds on to the taller man’s shoulders, letting his senses take over as the hand caressing him quickens its pace.

It doesn’t take long before he comes, legs nearly giving out under him. For a moment Tino can only stand there, leaning against the wall, catching his breath. Ivan is still close, breathing on his neck, his heavy weight against him. And hard.

He reaches there, to return the favour, but sudden, daring thought stops him. A need to impress.

He pushes back at Ivan’s shoulders until he moves and then steps away from the wall, turning them around. Their positions are shifted now. He looks up boldly at Ivan and holds his gaze as he drops down on his knees.

Tino forces his shaking hands to steady as he opens the belt. There's a small voice at the back of his mind, telling him this all is _too reckless, it’s happening too fast._ But when Ivan stares down on him like that, eyes wide with intrigue and desire, he finds it impossible to stop himself anymore.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you proceed on with the story, I'd like to note that you should view the relationship portrayed here with caution. This is NOT a love story, this is a story of a young person's growth as they experience infatuating romance for the first time (with someone who has no concept of healthy relationship) while going through great deal of internal change. And of a country's history, obviously...
> 
> Even if the relationship here is not explicitly abusive, it's certainly not a healthy one. So if some aspects of it make you feel uncomfortable, it's meant to. I don't mean to romanticize or glorify it, but to show POV of someone so infatuated with their partner that they can't see what's good for themselves and look past all warning flags clearly there.

He feels like he’s stepped into a whole new unfamiliar, intriguing side of his growing he’s been too afraid to indulge himself into before. In some way, Tino has always known he’s preferred angular, sharp features and stout arms and shoulders over dainty and softness of fairer gender. But there was always something holding him back: the judgeful eyes of the church, expectations of a society… Even if presumptions of men did not apply the same way on personifications, they still had brought him shame, whenever he had looked too long at a male. But above all, it was his own insecurity that had held him back.

But now, it feels like Ivan has pushed him over the edge. And he can’t get enough.

Nearly every night since confronting him, Tino has sneaked into his premises at late hours. Ivan never turns him away.

The Russian has taught him a whole new meaning for pleasure. Before, he’s only known it from simpler things. Good food, a long day spent among the calmness and beauty of nature, or the pleasure of watching a good theatre play... But this one can only be brought by touch. Receiving and giving of it, the closeness, the passion of it… and Ivan is certainly skillful with whatever he does, the Russian has him whimpering under his hands so easily.

They haven’t gone further from using their hands and mouths on each other. It’s a step Tino is still wary of taking, not quite comfortable with the idea of it yet. But can clearly see that Ivan is waiting for as every time after their encounters, there’s still that hunger in his eyes. But the Russian never pressures him about it. Tino knows it will only happen when he’s given his full consent.

The thought of it has him shivering both from anxiety and anticipation.

“Tino… _TINO!_ ” it takes Eduard to shout before the Finn startles out of his thoughts.

“Did you listen to a thing I just said?”

“Yeah, I… Sorry, what did you say again?” he asks, oblivious.

Eduard sighs, shaking his head. “Never mind…”

The Finn looks down, embarrassed. His and Ivan’s new… relationship seems to be mainly occupying his mind now. It’s like his body has awakened to craving that proximity constantly, that he’s only denied himself until now. It’s hard to concentrate on anything, as his thoughts always trail back on the Russian, just waiting for their next moment together.

Eduard looks at him with a frown, arms crossed.

“Look, I’m sorry. I just… get distracted a lot lately, it seems” he says and prays his friend will not ask with what. He’s not a convincing liar, even less for Eduard.

Gladly, he doesn’t. The Estonian just looks at him, contemplatively. Giving him space.

“You know that you can always tell me anything, right?” he asks gently.

Tino looks up, meeting the dark green eyes and for a short moment, considers telling him _everything._ But the doubt, the insecurity holds him back. Eduard is one of the very few here that doesn't take his land’s special state in the empire as some line between them. He’s intent to keep it that way. Telling the Estonian the true nature of his and Russia’s current relationship, would surely put that line there.

“I’m just thinking a lot lately. Of my land, of its future” the white lie comes easily. It’s such a general thought of a personification, what all of them think of. Eduard looks at him quietly, like he’s still waiting for him to open up. But as Tino says nothing, he shrugs. “I see. We never can stop thinking of that, can we?”

“True” Tino forces a smile. But the truth is, he’s hardly thought of Finland’s future at all lately.

It's past midnight when he’s content enough of everyone else being asleep and sneaks out of his room, tiptoeing towards Ivan’s chambers. He doesn’t bother knocking as he opens the door. His presence is never unwelcome here.

“Hello there” Ivan greets him, not taking his eyes off his work. But there’s a smile on his lips. “Was there something you needed?” he asks, the tone of his voice teasing.

Tino rolls his eyes and walks towards the Russian, hopping on his table to sit there.

“No, just passing by” he shrugs.

“Dear Grand Duchy of Finland, I think you’re making a mess of my paperwork” Ivan fakes a dramatic scoff, looks up at him with a glint in his eyes.

“Well, if my presence is such a disturbance, I can just lea-” Tino moves to get off, but his wrist is firmly grabbed. He smiles, his stomach already fluttering with anticipation.

Ivan rises from his seat, slowly walking to the other side of the table occupied. He steps between Tino’s legs, looking down on him, eyes dark with fervour. The gaze in them makes him shiver. Tino closes his eyes as Ivan leans down to kiss him. His arms fling around the broad shoulders, pulling the taller man closer.

Without warning, Ivan suddenly steps back and crouches lower, grabbing him at his middle and hoists him over his shoulder. 

“ _Hey-!_ You can’t just-!” Tino makes little effort to protest, hitting his fists at Ivan’s back. But soon his reluctance changes to laughter. He can’t stop giggling as he is carried like a sack towards the bedroom.

It’s strange, despite how much he’s always disliked being exposed, vulnerable - right now that state only seems to incite him as he lays on his back, without a single clothing covering him. And under the man, the nation, who he had fought so hard to keep away nearly all his life. Being completely surrounded under someone so larger, who could easily break him, do whatever he wanted with him, is not something he’d ever have imagined to be any kind of relieving. And yet, as Ivan crawls over him, laying gentle kisses all over his body, all he feels is ardor and affection.

It feels like ages as Ivan goes on with his light, gentle teasing before his mouth goes down where Tino desperately longs for.

Afterwards, as Ivan tangles his fingers in his hair, pushing his head lower, he feels again that need in him. That need to impress. Tino takes the Russian’s hands out of his scalp and looks up at him, timidly but still doubtless.

“I… I want to go further” he whispers, feeling his cheeks coloring.

Understanding flashes in Ivan’s eyes before they widen with desire and he reaches his hand to brush gently on the Finn’s cheek. “Are you sure-?”

“Ivan, I’m not some damsel you need to pamper. I know what I want” Tino says firmly. Of course, he’s insecure, but it’s better... to just get over with it. He’s ready for this ( _he had repeated that for himself until he begin to believe it_ )

“Well, if you insist…” Ivan smiles at him fondly and Tino thinks all his anxiety is worth this.

The Russian turns around then, reaching towards the drawer by the bed. Tino feels his nerves already tensing, his heartbeat quickening. Once more, he has to convince himself he’s certain of this. Ivan finds the item he looked for, leaving it on the bed next to him. As he turns around, Tino forces himself to smile over his insecurity.

Ivan keeps staring down at the Finn as he rises over him, nudging his legs apart. The deep intensity of the man’s eyes has him feeling both adored and oppressed. Ivan kisses the inner of his knee and slowly moves his hand downwards over Tino’s tight. 

If anything, it’s mostly painful, despite how slowly and gently the other moves inside him. But he hides all his discomfort behind his moans, lets Ivan quicken his pace even as the ache of it deepens. The Russian pushes his legs apart wider, going deeper and his gasp comes out as high-pitched shriek, because _it’s too much and it hurts._ And still, he can’t bring himself to tell Ivan to stop at all. Soon, the moving turns rougher as Ivan seems to lose all his restraint, his thrusts becoming relentless and rash. Tino closes his eyes tightly, lets the man above him chase his pleasure and tries to find his own. It’s difficult with the pain that has him in tears.

The feeling of afterglow is strange. His emotions are a mess of affection, vulnerability and dispirit and he aches in places he didn’t think was possible. But he doesn’t regret what happened. 

Ivan holds him against his chest, caressing his back, laying gentle kisses over his hair. 

“I’m sorry” he whispers “I did not meant to be… so rough with you”

“It’s alright” Tino answers with a frail voice and wonders if the lie was convincing at all.

For a moment, Ivan is only quiet, like he’s thinking. 

“I will go clean myself, in the bathroom, will you join?” he asks at last.

“I’m fine, I’ll… do it in the morning” the truth is, right now he just wants to be alone for awhile.

At first, Ivan says nothing, makes no attempt at moving, as if he is trying to understand what his companion is feeling.

“As you wish” he finally rises, walks out of the bedroom.

It’s only when Tino hears the outer door of the premises being opened and closed that he breaks down. He cries as his whole body seems to shake uncontrollably, the anxiety he’s held in pouring out in waves.

Fortunately, he has managed to gather himself together when Ivan returns. The bed creaks with the heavy weight settling on it. Tino has his back towards him, curled into himself, but a firm hand comes on his side, turning him around. Ivan looks down on him with a tender smile and trails his fingers along his torso. Tino finds it hard to hold that gaze with his forced smile. He knows his mask has started to crack as the tenderness in the violet eyes slowly changes to concern. And his puffed, red eyes certainly can’t hide him.

“Tino, was this your… first-?” The Russian’s voice is unusually frail.

Blush rises on his cheeks and Tino looks away.

“With a man, yes” he replies quietly.

“Oh god” Ivan sounds like he’s ashamed. “I wish you had told me before. It was not alright. I should have taken it slower--”

“No, I wanted it. I don’t regret this I…” Tino insists quickly, doesn’t want the other to feel guilt of what happened “You don’t have to apologize. Not over something I fully gave consent to” he reaches towards the large hand on his chest, grasping it in his smaller one. Ivan sighs, his forehead falling against Tino’s shoulder.

“I promise it will be better next time”

Tino is not sure how long they lay there in silence, as Ivan gently caresses him. His eyes feel heavy. He could close them, just for a moment. 

When he awakens, slight panic takes him over. _Is it morning already?_ Fortunately, as he glances at the clock on the wall, it’s still only the early hours. Quietly, he removes the hand around his chest, moving away. As he rises from bed, the hand grabs his wrist.

“You could stay” Ivan whispers.

Tino smiles, but shakes his head. “I don’t want the others seeing me leaving your rooms in the morning” 

“Are you… ashamed?”

“No. It’s just… I don’t want them to talk. Can this just... stay between the two of us?”

“I understand” Ivan brings up the hand he’s holding to his lips, kissing Tino’s knuckles before he lets go. “Goodnight then. Or what is left of it… And I’ll be looking forward to your next visit”

**_1848_ **

_By the mid 19th century, Europe was shaking again with Revolutions. The growing liberal and democratic values of people were tearing down old, monarchical structures of autocratic rule and nationalism of countries only kept growing stronger. In the so-called Spring of Nations, a series of political upheavals swarm all over Europe._

The unrest from the West was affecting Ivan again. He was tense, easily agitated and eyed his subjects with doubt. Revolutions reaching his empire too was a threat that kept him on edge, made him act controlling towards all in the house.

All except Tino. He knows he has their lord’s unquestioned trust, the faith in his loyalty unwavering.

Their nightly encounters are not as frequent anymore as in the beginning, the flaming fire between them settled to a serene and warm blaze. But they’re all the more passionate. Ivan seems to know every inch of his body now, understands his desires, can read on all his needs like an open book. Whenever they’re together, he just seems to sense exactly what Tino wants, even before the Finn can even realize it himself.

It’s both enchanting and intimidating, how well the Russian seems just to know him now, inside out. But as his bond with Ivan has deepened, his distance to the others has only grown wider.

Feliks is the same as ever: glaring at him when they run into each other on the hallways, taking every chance to throw an insult at him whenever he can. Tino has learned to ignore it. It doesn’t matter. He still has his autonomy, Poland doesn’t. And it’s his own damn fault. ( _It’s a reason he uses to justify his own actions in 1831, whenever the quilt comes to haunt his mind again_ )

Toris hardly talks to him at all anymore. He’s as good as air for the Lithuanian. It hurts more than he likes to admit. 

Ivan’s sisters’ opinion of him he can’t read at all. Katyusha still appears kind, but that’s all there is. Appearance. And Natasha… her gaze has been cold since the beginning. But his proximity to her brother now seems to have turned it to ice.

Ravis is timid around him. Like he just can’t understand why he could see Russia as anything more than conqueror, someone to be afraid of.

And young Aurel, who had gladly befriended the Finn at the beginning, prefers to spend his time with the Livonian now. It’s understandable, as Ravis is the only one close to a child in the house. But it’s clear as well that he had sensed the others’ changed attitudes towards Tino. Of course a young insecure boy would rather not spend his time with someone who’s outcast now. 

And Eduard… he wishes he could say their friendship was still the same. But it’s painfully obvious it isn't. The Estonian acts like nothing’s wrong, but through his forced smiles, Tino can see the two of them are not as close as they used to be. And these days, it seems it’s the company of his brothers he prefers over Tino.

“What will you do?”

Ivan doesn’t need to ask him what he is talking about. Uprisings around Western Europe were the constant topic in Russia now.

“Nothing, for now” he replies, his finger drawing circles on Tino’s back.

The Finn frowns at his vague answer, clearly not content with it. Despite the man understanding him so well, Tino still couldn’t at times read into Ivan’s blank expressions and short replies. Sometimes, the Russian just seemed to retreat behind his facade, leaving him only with more questions. Tonight, he won’t settle with that.

“So you will do nothing when the Revolution reaches the outskirts of your empire? 

Ivan sighs, closing his eyes. He knows how stubborn the Northerner can be, he will relentlessly keep pushing on for answers until he gets them.

“I prefer to stay out of this. As long as I can” he says. Tino only raises his eyebrows at him, clearly not satisfied with only that.

Ivan smiles shortly at the Finn’s persistence and continues. “Austrian Empire has asked aid from me. To suppress the uprising in Hungary”

Tino’s pressuring expression changes to a surprise. From what he understood, the relationship of spirits of Austria and Hungary were kind to a marriage. He has never talked with Elizaveta Héderváry personally, just seen her a couple of times at negotiations, by the side of Roderich Edelstein. The brunette woman had been enchantingly beautiful, but still bore distinct toughness in her that not many females had. Taking that into account, it’s not hard to imagine her rebelling against her husband.

“So… are you going to help?”

“I must. I cannot risk the succession of Hungary. It’s far too close to the empire. Because if she does, it might… give ideas for my subjects”

It doesn’t need to be mentioned separately, but both of them know the subject in question is Feliks. It was not only the geographical proximity of them, Tino knows that in the past the two had been very close friends. Elizaveta would surely be there supporting Poland if her country was to succeed with her revolution first.

“Speaking of which… I think your battalion might get deployed again”

“You’re sending me to Europe again?”

“I was hoping so. If you’re willing…” as he looks down at Tino, there’s that special, adoring look in his eyes. Like he’s the most valued thing in his whole empire.

“I can’t believe _you_ , Russia, needs a small nation like me to fight your battles” he scoffs, but there’s a smile on his lips. 

“A duchy” Ivan corrects him, his voice holding a hint of pressure. For a second, it makes Tino feel slightly uneasy, but he ignores it. “Of course we have enough men without your battalion. But there are not many soldiers in the whole empire that are as good as yours”

The compliment has his chest fluttering with pride. One of the most captivating things about Ivan is how easily he has him high. Has him feeling special.

“They will be proud to go. As will I” Tino says, rising himself for a chaste kiss. Ivan smiles against his lips.

**_1849_ **

As expected, when Feliks hears the news of Russia supporting Austria in suppressing Hungary, he’s furious. Even more as he learns it will be from Polish lands where the tsar will lead his troops.

“It’s none of our concern!! You… you have no right to intervene!!” he shouts at Ivan, his pale face glowing red. It’s wrong, unjust, Elizaveta is one of his oldest friends--

“It’s my responsibility” Ivan replies calmly. The Pole’s shouting is already giving him a headache.

“So you will now conquer Hungary too? I bet you plan to fetch her right under Austria’s nose. So you’ll have another pretty land in your collection...” Feliks hisses, eyes narrowed.

“I have no intention to break up any marriages. And Austria is my ally” he says calmly as he walks past the shorter man. There is no point arguing with him. But before he leaves, he looks back at Feliks with a threatening glance.

“I hope you’ll have the sense not to repeat your mistakes. If you dare to even think of starting another uprising, I won’t hesitate to crush you”

The Pole says nothing, only stares at him with look that’s pure hate. 

_Good. He understands to keep his mouth shut at least._ Ivan walks out, not willing to waste his time with the most stubborn of his subjects any longer.

He wishes Tino will pay a visit to his chambers tonight. He could really do with some admiration and devotion right now. See that adoration in those purple eyes as he gently showers the Finn with all his affection. And feel all that willingness to surrender as he takes him ruthlessly.

The other personifications learn that Tino too will leave to Hungary only on the day of his and Ivan’s departure.

“Should have known he’d be taking his lapdog with him” Feliks scoffs, marching out soon after. The look in Toris’ eyes too is judgmental, disappointed, but he says nothing, only walks after his partner. Even Ravis seems like he’s holding some blame on him, his usual gentle look now in a frown. 

“Good luck” he says, but it’s clear the spirit of Livonia doesn’t mean his words. Ivan’s sisters say nothing, only glance at him with doubt before they leave with Ravis. Aurel is not even present.

In the end, it’s only Eduard who comes to see him off. 

“Do you… do you really have to go?” the Estonian asks in a small, rueful voice. It’s clear he’s not supporting this either.

“My presence will encourage my battalion” Tino replies, but the excuse doesn’t feel convincing at all. There will be several troops of different nationalities all around the empire going there. But he’s the only personification apart from Ivan to attend. The truth is, he’s only going because Ivan had asked. Which he definitely can’t let Eduard know.

“Be careful” the Estonian says quietly. There is no encouraging smile in his expression at all.

Tino rises his arms for an embrace they always part with, but Eduard is already turning away, walking briskly back inside the house.

As Tino looks at his retreating back, there's a new, heavy sense of emptiness in him. Like he will truly be alone now.

The battles in Hungary are chaotic. The Revolutionists fight with such unyielding determination, despite being outnumbered and under armed. Many of them have hardly anything but stakes and scythes as their weapons.

But their will alone is not enough against armies of two large empires. By when Nikolai I has brought in his troops to Hungary, their defeat is obvious.

Despite all its glorifications, war is, in the end, nothing but terrible. Tino finds no honor, no glory, as he ruthlessly shoots man after man. He’s numbly going through the motions, his emotions completely turned off. It’s only at night when the thoughts come to haunt him, of what kind of men’s, or boys’, lives he had stolen that day. He never sleeps well during a war.

When the last battle of suppressing Hungary has been fought, Ivan takes him to his private tent soon after, pushing him on his back the moment when they’re inside.

“You fought so well, my dear Grand Duchy” he says, hands fumbling on his uniform as he kisses Tino.

The Finn moans, surrendering to the sensation, to Ivan’s engulfing passion. Under it, it’s easier to forget the sense of quilt haunting him.

**_1850_ **

_Revolutions of 1848 do not waver Finland’s loyalty to the tsar. The land is at peace, hardly any protests occurring there while the rest of Europe is swarming with violent rebellions and political upheavals. However, the Finns’ quietly rising national identity keeps growing stronger, especially within language politics. Fennomania, a political movement aggressively pushing the awakening of the national spirit in Finland, gains attention from church and the tsar as being dangerous of spreading radical revolutionary thoughts within people._

The familiar zest overwhelms him as he sees the harbor of Helsinki in the distance. His capital has been stably growing, flourishing well with trade and culture.

It’s only here where Tino feels he’s truly like himself, without any external influences impacting his behavior, his thinking. In St. Petersburg, it’s so easy to get disconnected from his true self, to have his mind clouded over by Ivan’s affections.

“Tino! It’s such a joy to see you! It’s been awhile” the man greeting him is a writer and philosopher who has become a remarkable figure with his language’s development within the last decade.

“Good to see you too, _Snellman_ ” he answers, returning the embrace. The man is one of the very few humans in his whole life he has ever asked to call him with his own name.

The man’s enthusiasm is admirable, it fills him with warmth and familiarity that only his people can rise in him. And the connection he feels for them, he feels it growing stronger every year. Feels their rising pride in his veins. For a personification, there is nothing like the unique sentiment of belonging they feel with their people.

And with a man like Snellman, it’s like bonding with a soul brother.

“How is your magazine faring?” Tino asks him in Swedish. What makes the man all the more charming, is the fact that despite Swedish being his mother tongue, his primarily spoken language, he still held such ardor to improve the state of Finnish, despite his own skills still being poor with it.

His expression turns glum. Tino tilts his head, frowning in concern.

“I’m afraid my writing will be quite limited in future”

His eyes widen, chest tightening in anxiety. “What do you mean?”

“It’s the new language regulation” the man says grimly “It will surely hamstring all Finnish press in the country, I don’t know to what degree, but…” Snellman looks up at him, only now noticing Tino’s distraught expression.

“What… what _language regulation?_ ” he feels like he’s been punched in the gut.

“You… you didn’t know…?” the man asks him, his eyes widening with surprise before the look in them changes to pity. “So they didn’t tell you this at St. Petersburg…”

Tino shakes his head. He’s shocked, can’t believe that he’s been left unaware of something _so important_... 

But his anxiety starts quickly changing into anger. And bitterness that Ivan had deliberately kept him in the dark about this.

He doesn’t waste time looking for the Russian as soon as he’s back in their mansion at St. Petersburg. He stomps in the living room, hands clenched in tight fists. Ivan sits there with his sisters, filling in the endless paperwork of the large empire.

“Ah, welcome back, Finlandiya. How was your-?”

“Can we talk? Alone” he speaks up, tries not let the anger show in his voice.

Natasha and Katyusha glance at him doubtfully, but continue their work without a word. Ivan looks a little taken aback with the outburst for a moment, but it doesn’t last long. He looks at Tino appreciatively, the corner of his mouth rising. 

“Of course” he follows after the Finn, who is already heading downstairs.

The moment they’re inside his premises, Tino turns around to release his indignation.

“Ivan, I-” but before he can even begin, the Russian has pressed him against the door, breathing heavily on his face.

“I missed you too” he whispers against his lips before he catches them in a possessive kiss, his large hands roaming along Tino. The Finn closes his eyes, enjoying the sensation. It would be so easy to just give in. Pretend that what he learned didn’t bother him, stay quiet and let Ivan’s overwhelming affections claim him. But this is not what he is here for.

He puts his hands between them and pushes hard. As Ivan stumbles back, there’s visible hurt in his eyes.

“You misunderstand. I didn’t ask you here for that” Tino says sharply, catching his breath.

The larger personification eyes at him dubiously, collecting himself to stand straight, looking down on him calculatingly. The difference in their height is prominent now.

The two men look at each other quietly. First time in a very long, there’s a friction rising between them.

“What is it?” Ivan asks at last as Tino seems not willing to speak up first.

“When were you planning to tell me of the new censorship?”

The Russian sighs, closing his eyes. “Eventually. I’m sorry you had to find out this-”

“So you never thought to mention this to me beforehand?! That this… language regulation will limit any chance my people would have educating themselves culturally in their own native tongue?” his voice is harsh, something Tino does not often hold.

“Tino, it’s not a complete censorship. Your people can still read-” 

“Yes, only texts of religious or economic nature. How civilized” Tino notes sarcastically, crossing his arms.

Ivan is only quiet after that. The silence streches on for so long the Finn starts to consider just marching out. He feels such disappointment, so insulted.

“You must understand. Nikolai simply can’t risk Revolutionary thoughts spreading anywhere now. Especially not on his most peaceful and favored place of the empire”

The compliment hardly has him feeling any better.

“I… we, my people… Have we ever rebelled against him, against you, for _a single_ time?”

Ivan smiles at him, melancholically. “Never”

“Then _why_ …?” 

“Because one single thought, carefully written and far spread, can lead to uncontrollable flow of events no one can foresee. So this… it’s a precautionary act. To remain your peace” Ivan’s voice is gentle now.

“But why… why couldn’t you just… _tell me?_ ” the words out as high-pitched whisper as his voice breaks. His anger is mostly just bitterness now. Ivan reaches his arm towards him, but Tino steps away.

“I… I will retire to my room” he says with a shaking voice, turning around and reaching for the door handle. “Don’t expect me to visit tonight”

**_1853_ **

_Ottoman Empire had steadily weakened during the 19th century. Russia seeks to take advantage of it, to spread its empire southwards. Nikolai I demands the sultan to accept the tsar as the protector of all Christians in Ottoman Empire, starting the dispute between the two empires. To pressure his enemy, Nikolai I moves his troops to conquer Ottomen’s vassal states of Moldavia and Wallachia._

_France and Britain oppose the spreading power of Russia. British are concerned about its influence spreading near Mediterranean and French are reaching to restore their previous prestige. Both of them agree to offer their support for Ottoman Empire in the coming war._

It had not taken long for him to forgive Ivan. After avoiding the Russian for months, he had just started to feel too empty, his body too craving for that contact. They had quickly fallen back to their habit of passionate nights.

But they’re different now. Rarer and mostly occur out of pure lust or desperation. There was a shatter between their trust that only physical intimacy couldn’t fix. Before, Tino had felt comfortable enough to tell nearly anything for Ivan, but now, he keeps a wall between them, avoids talking of his personal feelings. Or too much of his land. A wall that the Russian desperately tries to break every time they’re together.

And too often, Tino almost lets him and every time he’s come close to let it fall, he leaves Ivan’s chamber in regret and wonders if he should just stop the whole thing between them.

But he’d be so lonely then. There is now a prominent distance between him and other personifications, Ivan’s subjects, one that himself he’s created. Even between him and Eduard too. It leaves the Finn such a sense of alienation that he can never stop himself from returning to Ivan’s chambers.

“Ottoman Empire has declared war on Russia” the information comes without warning, but not unexpected. All of them have been aware of the straining situation near Black Sea, it was only a matter of time before the conflict broke out. 

Ivan clenches tightly the fork and knife on his hand, his food untouched. If it was only the Ottoman he was fighting, there would be no need for concern. But ultimately, it’ll be England and France too he’ll have to face, the strongest of nations in Europe, in the whole world.

“Me and Ukraine will leave for the south early next week, to accompany our soldiers. I do not know when we will be back”

Silence lingers over the table. This war will be no minor one, whatever is the outcome of it, it will surely affect the future of all of them.

“Where else can we expect the conflict to take place?” Natasha asks as one else seems willing to speak up.

“It’s expected to spread further in Crimea… Perhaps Caucasus too. And Baltic Sea as well. The Northern side of it” Ivan has his gaze now turned on Tino. The look in his eyes is demanding, but apologetic. _I’m sorry you’ve been dragged into this._

“Finlandiya, it’s very likely Ottoman’s western allies will try to cause disturbance at your shores. Your sea fortresses there, they are the largest in the whole North. France and England will see you as a threat too” Ivan is speaking with his empire side, his voice commanding and authoritative. It’s so different from the gentle one he uses when the two of them are alone.

“The Grand Duchy will be prepared” Tino’s reply is firm and confident. Even if a cold thread and insecurity are already rising in him. His fortresses might be sturdy and strong, but his land has very few equipment to defend itself against Europe’s greatest navies.

  
  


On the evening before Ivan’s departure, Tino comes to his chambers again. But his visit is not for desire. He wants to make things right between them before the other leaves. He doesn’t know how long the war will last, parting with so much bitterness will only give him regret. 

“When you come back, I will not hold anything against you anymore” he gives his promise. It has Ivan’s eyes shining in gratitude. The Russian kneels in front of him, taking his hands and kisses his palms.

**_1854_ **

_Russian navy brings notable destruction on the harbours of Ottoman Empire at Black Sea. Threatened, both France and England declared war in March of 1854. Soon after, the allied troops arrive at Balkan to pressure Russia to withdraw its forces from the area. Meanwhile, British-French navy moves in Baltic Sea, the fleets floating near the shores of Finland._

So far, the allied attacks at his shores have been minor, merely short disturbances and battles of them hardly seem to have real effort put in them. For a while, Tino wonders if the navy is there simply to threaten them, with no intention of a major attack.

But then British fleet had started causing destruction at the cities in the North-West coast. Tino had quickly moved from Helsinki northwards, until reaching the small city of _Kokkola_.

“It’s likely that the Brits will move on here next” the city governor tells him. There’s a map spread in front of them, small wooden boats on top of it, representing their enemy.

“Have the citizens gone away to safety?”

“Yes, most of them have travelled to the countryside by now. Those still left are here of their own will. In fact, we’re planning a counterattack...”

Tino looks at the governor in surprise. And with doubt. It’s noble and all, to put up resistance against an overwhelmingly stronger opponent, but what can they even do, with hardly nothing to defend themselves with…

“Hundreds of men have already volunteered. We have weapons and if we build large fences between the sheds, the whole coast will look like one long depot. They won’t even see us from the sea, we have the advantage of surprise” the man explains, pride for his city glowing from him.

“It… it’s a brilliant plan!” Tino feels his spirits already rising, impressed by the will of his people here. He can only hope it’s enough against four British fleets.

“But we’re still desperately outnumbered…”

“If we’re lucky, support from the nearest soldier unit will arrive on time”

The fortunate is on their side. Before British can start their attack, a storm arises to delay them. Meanwhile, two Russian troop units with two pieces of artillery march in the city. After the storm, several smaller boats are seen coming from the ships, negotiation flag fluttering in front of them.

Tino doesn’t know what kind of negotiators he had expected, but it certainly was not this man. The blond had stepped off the boat with all confidence of the world's greatest empire, walking on shore head held high and arrogant scorn on his face.

“Well well, isn’t it the Russia's most favored subject… Good afternoon, Grand Duchy of Finland” Arthur Kirkland greets him with a sneering smile.

As they walk into the small city hall, Tino can only wonder why on Earth the personification of British Empire is on his shores.

“I thought you’d be in Crimea” he says once they’ve sat down.

“Been there all spring. Francis can manage it himself just fine there” Arthur sips his tea, legs crossed. Despite his obvious aggressive intentions, he still keeps up his appearance of a proper British gentleman. “It’s a charming city”

“Which you intend to destroy” Tino narrows his eyes at the man, not willing to hear pointless compliments.

“I won’t have to, if you agree for it to surrender. Along with all its ships and assets”

The Finn keeps only glaring at him. The Brit can try to intimidate him all he wants, he won’t simply just give in. 

The green eyes look at him with derision. “Whatever you’re planning to do, it won’t work”

“I certainly am not planning to surrender either so… I guess you’ll just have to attack” Tino replies, enjoying the scandalous look flashing for a second in the Brit. Arthur grits his teeth, putting his teacup down with a loud clatter.

“You’re giving me choice then” he hisses, standing up and marches out. The Finn he leaves behind beams with pride. Tino bets it's not often that smaller nations dare to stand up against England like this.

The attack starts the following day. But British fleet is not prepared for the artillery and manpower brought by Russian units nor the pure stubbornness the local folk fight with. Dozens of Englishmen fall or get captured in the battle while Finns and Russians suffer very few casualties.

It’s a battle Tino will surely remember well; one where his small town had bested the navy of British Empire.

_By summer, the allies had still not acquired major results at the Baltic Sea besides small skirmishes. In France and England, there’s dissatisfaction over the situation and under public pressure, their navies move to Åland, to attack Bomarsund._

He had hardly made it in time to Åland. He almost wishes he hadn’t because as he sees the dozens of war ships in the distance, he knows it will be a hopeless battle.

“How many?” Tino asks the commander.

“By our calculations… 70, sir”

His breath catches, but he tries to keep his voice even. “And how many men do we have?”

The man looks at him glumly “Little more than two thousand”

It’s a miserable fight. The fortress that had never been finished in the first place doesn’t stand a chance under allied cannons, firing from both the sea and the land. The battle lasts for a week before the fortress surrenders. Tino hardly makes it out from Bomarsund himself before it’s conquered.

The defeat leaves him with such bitterness that Tino plans to leave Åland on the next departing ship, to continue the fight on the mainland.

But before he can, the commander reaches him.

“Do not haste away yet, boy. There is someone who wants to see you”

Tino frowns and hopes it’s not Arthur Kirkland. He really has no spirit to deal with the Brit, has no interest to hear the empire mock him for his loss and threaten him further.

His breath catches as he follows after the commander inside the room where the quest is. There stands the person he could never have expected to be here. One he has not seen in decades, but who used to be one of the closest in his whole life.

“Berwald” his voice comes out nearly fragile.

The Swede turns around, regarding him with _that_ smile, warm and familiar, that used to make him feel that everything would be alright, no matter what.

At first, there just hangs a deafening silence over them. It’s been so long since they last saw each other, it’s like neither of them knows how to act around each other now. It fills Tino with melancholy. It used to be as easy as breathing.

“Why are you here? Not that I’m not happy to see you, but…” he starts, uneasily. After his initial joy of seeing Berwald again, it had quickly changed to concern. If personification of Sweden was here, it meant the allies had got the kingdom involved somehow.

“My personal presence was not required. But I wanted to come, when I heard you had participated in the battle of Bomarsund…”

 _So you took the chance to see me._ The thought makes him smile, fills him with warmth.

“I see… Then, in which way has Sweden got pulled into this?” he prays his previous kingdom has not taken the side of France and England, it would place the two of them as enemies. His loyalty is now Russia’s, but still, he could never agree to take up arms against Sweden.

“We’re not involved, not really. My kingdom is intent to keep its neutral status. But…” the look in Berwald’s eyes is uneasy. “France and England, they offered to give me Åland”

Tino’s eyes widen and a sudden sense of possessiveness rises in him. The archipelago of Åland lies directly between Stockholm and his previous capital Turku. It had always been a kind of connecting element between their lands. The islands there were occupied by purely Swedish speakers, but he had always considered Åland to belong for Finland. Which had been confirmed after joining Russia’s empire as the islands there had too. And now, hearing it carelessly being offered to Sweden by other nations drives him mad.

“I told them I don’t want it” Berwald says firmly, like he is sensing his thoughts. Tino stares at him in disbelief for a moment, astonished how easily the Swede had just recognized his claim over Åland like nothing. Most of the greater nations were greedy to take any land they had a chance to get their hands on. But Berwald, it seemed like he hadn’t even considered the easy chance to take. Like his respect for Tino mattered more.

“And neither does my King. He doesn't want to risk angering Russia” the Swede continues.

Tino smiles with the relief, that they don’t have to stand as enemies after all.

“He is wise…” he says. It’s such a contradiction to what they used to be. “It’s hard to believe that your kings’ ambitions these days are only neutrality and peace. As we used to run all over Europe for their glory, as the conquerors”

“We live in different times now. Better perhaps” Berwald returns his smile.

It’s amazing how quickly it feels like they have fallen back to their familiar, comfortable old selves. They might have been separated, but the bond, it’s still there. The thought consoles him greatly, as in St. Petersburg he always feels so distant to Sweden. But now, sitting here with Berwald, he realizes the connection between their lands, _themselves_ , was never gone.

They both leave Åland that same evening. Berwald will head west, to Stockholm and Tino eastwards, to his own shores. Their reunion had been short, but emotional enough to leave him with heavy sorrow as their roads will separate again.

“I was glad to see you. And sorry, that I couldn’t help you with Bomarsund…”

“It was not your fight” he replies firmly, as he sees the quilt in the Swede’s eyes. It seemed Berwald still thought of him, of Finland, somehow as his responsibility, despite their lands not being united anymore for nearly 50 years. The dark green blue eyes, those that had always reminded him of the Baltic Sea, look at him ruefully. 

“If it had been, I’d never have let this happen” _If you were still mine._

Tino sees the bitterness in the taller man’s eyes, in them wondering of what could have been if Sweden had held on to Finland. Something that Tino wonders often of too. _But would you have ever given him the kind of autonomy Russia has?_

He stops himself from thinking further. Because he will never know the answer to that and guessing alternatives of history can give him nothing in the end.

His ship will depart soon.

“Thank you, Berwald. For coming here” Tino offers his hand. It’s the proper way for old friends to part. Even if he all wants is just to embrace the Swede, just to feel his warmth and familiarity once more... but he thinks, _knows_ , it will only bring further melancholy for them.

“It was nothing” the Swede clasps his smaller hand in his own. That alone has the Finn overwhelmed with emotions he can’t understand. As Berwald lets go, he feels such coldness, emptiness he nearly shivers. He has to go, before he gives in for that longing. Tino smiles shortly and turns to leave.

“Tino”

He turns back right away, meeting Berwald’s eyes. The longing in them has his chest tighten with pain. _Please, don’t make this anymore difficult…_

“I know my kingdom has no part in your land’s affairs anymore, but… if you ever need help, or you’re treated unjustly… You’ll always have a safe place in Stockholm. I will never turn you away” the look in his eyes is _pleading_. The pain in his chest intensifies and right in that moment, Tino wants nothing more than to take a ship to west instead of east, leave with the person that was, _still is_ , one of the most dearest in his whole life. With whom he always feels safe and complete, never in doubt.

But he can’t. He’s not half of Sweden anymore, he’s Grand Duchy of Finland and his people finally have their own pride. Throwing it away for his personal feelings would be the highest kind of disgrace for a personification.

“Thank you… but I can handle myself” he forces a smile over the aching pain of his heart. “And I trust my empire to protect me”

Berwald’s eyes widen, visible hurt in them from the Finn's words. Sense of quilt clenches in Tino, but he convinces himself it's better this way, to convince Berwald his loyalties lie only with Russia now.

As he watches the distancing view of Åland while the ship sails away, he can’t stop wondering what could have been between them if they were never separated.

_The allied forces explode the fortress of Bomarsund after Sweden’s refusal of taking Åland, to prevent Russia from using it as a military base in future. Two other fortresses at shores of Finland are destroyed as well and Viaborg, the strongest sea fortress in North, is bombed for two days._

_In Crimea, allies advance towards Sevastol, the important port city for Russia and seize it. Despite several times of trying to gain it back, the city stays conquered by allies. As the winter approaches, the active conflict turns to long and torturous trench warfare._

**_1855_ **

_The soldiers stuck in Balkan suffer enormously for the lack of proper medical care, clothing and food. The pictures and reports of their agony spreads fast in British news due to the recent innovation of telegraph. The public opinion starts drifting against the war._

_Austria threatens to join the conflict, taking the side of the allies which causes Russia to retreat from Wallachia and Moldavia._

_Under public pressure, French and British surrender Sevastol to bring relief to their suffering soldiers. Their retreat ceases the acts of war in the area._

_In March, Nikolai I passed away from pneumonia in his palace._

The sound of the outer door opening interrupts their preparation of the dinner of the evening. The personifications look at each other knowingly and soon all of them hurry towards the hallway.

Ivan and Katyusha have finally returned from Crimea, after being away for nearly two years. Both of them look like ghosts of themselves, their clothes hanging on them like there’s only skeletons underneath. 

Tino thinks he’s never seen Ivan in such a frail state. His skin is nearly as grey as his hair, the circles around his eyes heavy and violet. His state shows the war had been as awful as it had been talked to be. Next to him, Katyusha doesn’t look much better.

“Welcome home” Natasha says and for once, her voice shows some emotion through it. A blend of distraught and relief.

No one else says anything after her. Looking at their fatigued figures has left them speechless. 

“You look like shit” it’s Feliks who finally dares to break the silence lingering over them.

As they sit down for dinner, the two of them devour their meal like they’ve been starving for months. Which they likely have.

The rest of them are not that hungry. They’re all at unease, as they still don’t know who will be the next tsar, what will happen in the empire now. The war had left Russia in such disorder that the future for them holds nothing, but uncertainty. But right now, it’s not yet proper to ask of it.

“Finlandiya” Ivan speaks up suddenly. Tino looks up swiftly.

“Will you give me a summary of the situation at Baltic Sea at my premises?” he asks. The intense look in his eyes tells it will definitely not be any talk of the war that they will do.

“I-I will” Tino replies with a shaky voice. The truth is, he doesn’t wish yet for the physical intimacy Ivan is clearly longing for. He wishes they could just talk, hold each other quietly... let their wounds of the war heal first. 

The moment he steps inside, Ivan is on him. He hardly answers the demanding lips, nearly tries to struggle away from the hands fumbling on his clothes. He wants to offer his comfort, of course, but not like this right now.

“Ivan, are you sure we should-” he asks warily, tries to slow down the man.

“Tino, _please_ ” the Russian presses his forehead against Tino’s, his eyes pleading. “I need you…”

He doesn’t have the heart to refuse it.

It’s not rough as usual when Ivan is in this kind of mood - he probably doesn’t have neither the energy or the strength to be - but it’s still desperate. Even though the Finn feels adored to every inch of his body, it still leaves him remotely with a sense of… used.

Tino pushes away the haunting thought quickly. _I agreed to this._

He’s forgetting all of that afterwards, as he lies on Ivan’s chest, _ribs_ , as the long fingers stroke his hair and nape. All he feels is content.

“Alexander II” Ivan speaks up suddenly.

“What?” Tino looks up at him questioningly.

“He is the new tsar. And far more liberal than those before him. We will have a bright future ahead of us” the Russian kisses his forehead.

 _We will be better. The both of us._ The promise inflates him with devotion.

**_1856_ **

_Treaty of Paris puts a final end to the long conflict in March 1856. Sevastol is returned for Russia, in condition that the new tsar gives up Nikolai’s claim for Ottomen to recognize the tsar as the protector of the Christian in their empire. Moldovia and Wallachia remain vassal states for Ottoman Empire. Both Black Sea and Åland are demilitarized._

_Alexander II is convinced from the ill outcome of the war that Russia requires fundamental changes to strengthen its status. He starts wide social and economic reforms that lead the empire towards a more liberal state._

  
  


Right from the start, Tino could tell his new tsar will be a good one. He’s grown to less conservative values than his father, shows no fear in bringing great changes in the empire. And above all, seems very benevolent towards Finland's autonomy.

Alexander and Ivan had arrived for an imperial visit, but instead of staying in the capital, their road continued to another city, _Tampere_ , blooming with industry.

“So this factory here… It is now the biggest one in the cotton industry, in the whole North?” Ivan asks him, looking around the place in astonishment.

“Yes. And the most developed one” Tino can’t help but brag.

“Your land… _you_ are growing so fast. The Grand Duchy will have a prosperous future to look forward to” the Russian looks at him with a fond and proud smile.

The compliment has his heart beating. The industrialization from Europe might have reached him late, but now, with the large economic reforms granted by the tsar, he feels confident to catch up quickly. His people can finally reach for wealthier lives.

Their journey continues east next. To attend the grand ceremony that will open the Canal of _Saimaa_.

The building of it had taken over 10 years. But it was definitely worth the wait. The long canal will connect his large water districts to the gulf of Finland and Karelia, improving the trade routes between his land and the empire. It will surely revive the economy in the area.

It’s been long since he’s felt such eagerness for his future. His land might grow to become one of the most brisk trading centers in the empire…

“Your cheeks will ache later for smiling that much” Ivan regards his enthusiasm, but the corner of his lips are rising too.

“It’s hard not to” Tino says. He feels vividly not only his own, but the zest of all his people present here too.

“I do share your pride. It’s wonderful to have this channel to connect us. Just like Karelia does” 

The Finn feels affection from the words... even if he can’t entirely agree with them. Just like Åland, he considers Karelia his and his alone. But he doesn’t voice his thoughts out loud, doesn’t want simple misuse of words to ruin this moment.

“You and me, we’re intertwined... And I will _always_ be close behind you” Ivan whispers. Tino’s smile slightly falls, feeling now somehow ill at ease. The words sounded strangely possessive.

It’s only him who returns to their mansion in St. Petersburg. Ivan had parted from him at the harbour, continuing his way to Moscow with the tsar for other business.

It’s not as if he feels unease of returning alone, but these days the other personifications in the house just treat him… differently. The growing distance between them, one that had started ever since he had participated in suppressing the uprising of Poland, had grown to a rift he couldn’t seem to fix, no matter what he did. Even Eduard gave him now mostly forced smiles and seemed stiff around him.

His status in the empire is special, he’s glad for it, but… he just feels _so alone_ with it.

“H-hey, I’m back” Tino arrives in the drawing room, where the others have gathered. As usual, they’re spending their free evening with board games.

They all turn to look at him, but no one says a word. Silence lingers in the air, his arrival the obvious cause of it. He’s starting to feel uncomfortably self-conscious.

“Welcome home” Katyusha says at last, smiling kindly. She at least makes an effort to be friendly with him.

“What… what are you playing?” the Finn forces a smile as he walks inside.

“The Road to Siberia” Natasha replies, not taking her eyes off the game.

“The usual one… Mind if I join?” he asks, trying to sound cheery.

“Not at all” Eduard says as no one else seems willing to answer.

Tino sits down next to him. Despite what the Estonian said, it’s painfully obvious most of them do mind.

“How was your trip?” Eduard asks him after a while. Apparently, he still cares enough to try making Tino feel less uncomfortable here.

“It went great. We went to several cities and attended the opening ceremony of my new channel. The tsar was… very impressed. And Iv-” he stops himself quickly from calling Ivan by his name. It’d be suspiciously personal. “Mister Russia was very taken too”

“That’s… that’s good” his friend replies with a smile. But his uneasiness is clear from his voice. 

Then an odd quietness settles over. Like all of them are aware of something that Tino isn’t. 

“What sweet honeymoon you had” it’s Feliks who speaks up at last, with a mocking smile. Tino feels heat rushing to his cheeks, both from embarrassment and anger, but keeps quiet. Reacting to the Pole’s taunting will only give them something to doubt. Next to him, Eduard sends spiteful glare towards his bully.

“Feliks” Toris raises his voice warningly.

“ _What?_ ” the Pole asks like he’s oblivious. “I just think it’s like… _totally repulsive_ ”

Tino freezes. He looks up at the green eyed blond defiantly, fearing the worst. “What is?”

The Pole returns his gaze, the look in his eyes scornful. “You totally know what. _We all_ know”

He feels like the floor has dropped out underneath him. No one says a word, like all of them are holding their breaths. But Tino can tell from their expressions that Feliks is not lying.

“It was bad enough when you were his lapdog... But now that you’re _his bitch_ as well just looking at you makes me feel sick” the Pole continues, his voice venomous.

Tino can only stare, speechless as a heavy sense of shame, humiliation waves over him. Feliks scoffs at his shocked state.

“Did you seriously think I haven't heard you sneaking to his chambers for like, _fucking years?_ Don’t be ridiculous…”

His breath catches, distress rising in his chest. He had thought he had kept them in the dark. That his and Ivan’s encounters had been known to them alone... He feels now foolish for even believing that.

Feliks’s smile is malicious. “So tell me, Finland, what do you do for Russia that keeps you so privileged? Do you suck his cock all the way to your throat? Or does he take you from behind like the dog you are-”

“ _FELIKS, TO WYSTARCZY!!_ ” 

Toris is shouting as Tino stands up, white hot rage taken over him. He jumps over the board, towards the Pole who hardly has time to react before a fist lands on his face. Feliks stumbles, falling over from the impact. The Finn breathes heavily as he stares down at the other in anger, the humiliation burning in him deeply. 

“Mine and Ivan’s… personal relationship has nothing to do with the state of my land” his voice shakes.

“You're like, even more stupid and naïve than I thought…” Feliks rubs his cheek where he had been hit, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. “We’re representations of nations. Every single thing we feel comes from that. Our relations are _never_ just personal! No matter how much you like to pretend otherwise” the scornful smile rises on his lips again. “Let me guess, you fuck him because he makes your pathetic duchy feel special. And he fucks you because he just _loves_ feeling that control over you. And well... I don’t think anyone else here would lower themselves to let him”

Fury takes over him again and he launches towards the Pole. But Feliks is prepared this time and kicks him hard at his stomach before swiftly throwing himself on his feet. As Tino moves to attack again, Feliks braces himself to fight back. But Toris is now stepping between them while Eduard rushes behind the Finn, holding him by his arms.

“Tino, it’s not worth it…”

The Lithuanian pushes back at Feliks with force. “That was way over the line, you went too far!”

“It was about time someone called him out. _It’s disgusting!_ ”

All other personifications in the room are quiet, their eyes on the ground, frozen on their spots. Tino wonders if they are all disgusted with him. His anger is fading, leaving only the vivid sense of humiliation that feels suffocating.

“We’re leaving” Toris says firmly, dragging Feliks with him towards the exit. The Pole doesn’t protest as his partner pulls him away. But as they pass by the Finn, he glares at the Northerner spitefully for one more time.

 _“Rosyjska kurwa”_

Tino hears the quiet, but clear whisper. He knows enough Polish to understand the insult of the words. _Russian whore._

The silence they leave behind is deafening. Tino stares at the floor, his heart still drumming in his chest, agitated from the heavy shame dizzying him.

He gathers his will, to look up at those still left in the room. Eduard frowns like he’s in pain, his expression telling he’s sorry for Tino to be exposed that harshly. Natasha’s face shows no expression at all, her icy eyes staring at him without a blink. Next to her, Katyusha seems like she’s pitying him. Ravis and Aurel don’t look at him at all, their eyes downcast.

“I...I…” he wants to say something, but words get stuck in his throat. Unable to stand there in his humiliation anymore, Tino turns around and runs out of the room.

It feels like hours he's lied on his bed, hugging his pillow, before a knock at his door startles him.

“It’s me…” he hears Eduard calling behind it.

“Come in”

The Estonian steps in quietly, regards Tino with a small smile. He walks inside, takes the chair next to table. For a moment, it’s only silence between them.

“How long have you known?” Tino asks with a small voice. 

Eduard is quiet, like he’s thinking carefully of his words. “I noticed years ago that you had started to act… strange. Like you were both anxious and so overwhelmingly happy at the same time. I thought it was just your people changing you, like for all of us… But then Ivan had seemed too friendly around you and the way he always was praising Finland… and by the time when you started to wear scarfs inside I really suspected of something… going on between you two. And when Feliks begin to gossip I was quite convinced of it”

Tino can only nod in his shame. _So they’ve known for quite awhile._

“Does it… make you feel uncomfortable?” he asks quietly.

“I can’t deny I’m not… content with the idea” Eduard admits and Tino feels his chest tightening again. _Please, don’t drift any farther away from me._

“But you are still my best friend, Tino. Nothing will ever change that”

The relief washes over him, nearly overpowering the shame he still feels.

“But… I just wished I had learned of this from yourself first, instead from my own presumptions... and Feliks”

“I’m sorry, Eduard. I… I didn’t know how to tell you. I was so afraid things would change. And now they have…” his voice breaks, but before the rest of him can, the Estonian has stepped close, familiar arms going around him. 

“Hey, you will never lose me. You’re still… you”

Tino breathes in his closeness, the comfort from Eduard soothing all his tenseness. It’s been so long since they’ve embraced like this.

As they part, his friend looks at him gently, before it changes to that over concerned look, one he always wears when he’s worried on Tino’s behalf.

“I just want to be sure… what you and mister Russia do… It’s something you fully give consent to?” he asks cautiously.

“Of course. Eduard, Ivan doesn’t force me to anything, if that’s what you mean” Tino replies, suddenly very self-conscious. There had been times when the Russian had… pushed him towards things he hadn’t exactly felt like doing. But in the end, he had always agreed. That need to impress had won over his insecurity. So he had been fully compliant… _right?_

“Alright” the tone of the Estonian’s voice tells he is not fully convinced with his answer. “And it’s not that you’re doing this… to be in his favor?”

“What? No! Oh god, no Eduard… I’m not in this for any political favors as Feliks is keen to believe…”

“Sorry, it’s just… we feared and fought him for _centuries_ , Tino. I’m having a hard time with understanding how all that hate has turned to… this. And only in few decades”

“In the past I only knew Russia as the enemy of the kingdom, the constant threat from East. I didn’t know… Ivan. Not like I do now” he smiles, fondness filling him. "I know he can get controlling and pressuring. But having that large empire, he can't help it! But that's not all there is. He can be so... gentle and considerate too. And magnetic" 

Eduard frowns as he listens the way Tino talks about the Russian, with so much adoration, like he's in a haze. But he still wants to show his support, despite his doubts and concern.

“I believe you... but I really want to be sure that you’re not getting hurt in any way”

Tino finds his friend's mistrust silly. Well... there had been countless times he had walked out from Ivan’s chambers heavily limping, aching bruises on his hips or thighs as the Russian had lost control over himself again. But Eduard doesn’t need to know all the details.

“I appreciate the concern, really, but you worry over nothing” he assures his friend. And himself.

The Estonian stays in his room late as they talk, not only of him and Ivan, but of everything they haven’t talked in years. It’s like a heavy weight from his chest has finally been lifted. Like he’s gained back best friend. Now, there’s only a comfortable silence between them, as they lay on his bed, staring at the roof of his room. He’s missed their moments like this.

“Tino, do you love him?” 

The sudden question catches him completely off guard. “How… how did this become this deep?” he forces a laugh over his uncomfort.

“I was just wondering… how deep your affair is…”

Tino thinks carefully on his answer. He’s only ever known the love of a dear friend, like Eduard, but this love they’re talking about now... of devotion and passion. Of happiness and joy brought solely by someone’s presence. Feeling content, complete around them…

What he and Ivan have was that strong pull towards each other that had rapidly blazed into a burning flame, all consuming. But is it love, he’s not sure.

“I… I don’t know” his answer is as frank as it can be.

Ivan returns home a week later. He’s hardly taken off his jacket as the Finn walks up to him promptly.

“Finlandiya, I’m glad you’ve come to receive me. Moscow was-” he speaks formally, but gets interrupted as Tino throws his arms tightly around him, burying his head on the Russian’s chest. The unexpected display of tenderness bewilders him. He knows very well how his lover avoids any kind of affections when they’re not somewhere private.

“They know” the shorter man whispers against his chest.

Understanding, Ivan sighs and raises his arms to return the embrace. “I’m sorry”

“No, it was bound to happen… sooner or later” 

He strokes the Northerner’s golden hair. “Nothing has to change”

“I know. It’s just… they think it’s one of the reasons why my country has it’s special status in your empire”

“Then they are fools” Ivan takes hold on the Finn’s shoulders to look at him. “Do they really think I could change Alexander’s mind if he didn’t want to keep your autonomy? They underestimate his authority…”

Tino smiles lightly, but there’s still that uncertainty in his eyes.

“What we have is not the same as what is between the empire and the grand duchy. I’m in this for you, Tino. And what they think of us doesn't matter at all”

The blueberry eyes soften now, in them relief and pure adoration and Ivan feels overwhelmed with fondness. There has never been anyone, in his whole life, that has looked at him like this. It fills him with both affection and possessiveness. _You will never leave me._


	5. Chapter 5

Perhaps it’s better now that everyone knows. He doesn’t need to look over his shoulder anymore when he walks to Ivan’s chambers late at night, can stay there until morning without having to worry over being caught leaving there. Though he still prefers to wear scarves to cover himself, would rather not let everyone see the dark, purple bruises around his neck that sometimes the Russian leaves on him.

The confrontation hadn’t been in any way relieving, far from it, but after it he was left with nothing, but honesty to offer for others now.

The rift between had definitely not been fixed, but sincerity was a start for it to begin to mend. He can only try to improve his relations with them patiently, hoping he can gain back their fellowship with time.

It’s late in the evening as he quietly opens the door of his room, to again spend his night at another chamber. His stomach already flutters with anticipation. Ivan has treated him with such appreciation lately. Been gentler, more attentive towards him. And ceaselessly passionate. 

The language regulation decade ago had left friction between them, but the Crimean war and the new tsar had changed things. The censorship in the Grand Duchy had been loosened and the large economic reforms Alexander II pushed towards were reviving the trade. The empire was heading towards a better, braver future. And it showed clearly in Ivan.

He’s been less strict towards his subjects, open to their proposals, willing to change... Like he’s realizing a more liberal rule is a better way to keep his empire stable and grow its prosperity. The thought comforts Tino greatly. Maybe others too will soon see the better side of the Russian... 

As he steps out in the corridor, the door on the other side opposite his room opens as well. But it’s not Feliks that comes out from there.

Toris’ eyes widen in surprise as he sees the baffled Finn on the doorway.

“Good evening” Tino says awkwardly, as nothing else comes to his mind. Seeing the Lithuanian here was unexpected. Toris and Feliks carefully kept their relationship from Ivan’s attention - it was not usually here, fairly close to the Russian’s own premises and chamber where the two spent their time.

“Evening” the Baltic replies, blankly looking at him.

Quietness settles between them. Like either of them don’t know how to continue the conversation now. They have not talked to each other properly, with just the two of them, for years.

“You’re not gonna tell him I was here, right?” Toris asks at last. 

“Huh? I mean… Of course I won’t. I’m not some personal spy of his, I don’t go reporting what you all--” he’s quickly convincing the Lithuanian, but sees then the small smile he has, telling the question wasn’t asked that seriously.

“I believe you won’t” he says. Tino returns his smile. Hearing Toris regard him so benevolently after so long is a relief he’s been longing for. “Hey, could we… talk for a moment?”

For a second time he’s surprised by the Lithuanian.

“Yes! That would be... great” he replies, joy filling him from the request. Maybe he can gain back this friendship. “Come in…” he opens his door and holds it as Toris walks towards him from the other side.

The Lithuanian stays standing near the doorway, clearly not planning to stay long. But Tino is still more than glad that the other made the initiative to talk with him at all. Unfortunately, his joy has already changed to insecurity, as he finds he has no idea where to proceed now.

“I want to apologize, on Feliks’ behalf…” Toris is the one to break the silence again. “What he said, it was _really_ out of line. He shouldn’t have... humiliated you like that”

Tino can only nod as the uncomfortable memories of that evening return. Since then, he’s avoided the Pole like plague. Feliks too shuns away from any communication with him. And he is glad for that as the silence is far better than hearing another insult thrown at him. He has a feeling Toris had a hand in with Feliks being so tame now.

“Thank you. Even if I’d rather hear it from himself…”

“It’s Feliks. He wouldn’t apologise even if he knows it was wrong” Toris sighs and then looks at him again. “But it’s not only because of the apology I wanted to speak with you…”

Tino feels hope rising in him, wishes the Baltic wants to rekindle their friendship as he does. But the kind look in the green eyes is turning grave.

“I… I want you to be careful. With mister Russia”

The disappointment is bitter. So Toris came here just to speak ill of Ivan, to advise him to stay away. As if he would need any guidance on his own decisions. 

“I appreciate the concern, but really, I know what I’m in--”

“ _Do you?_ ”

Toris’ expression is dreary, like he’s pitying him. Tino frowns in frustration. He already talked this through with Eduard. Do all of them find his judgement that poor?

“Look, I know you all are still afraid of him. I understand. You have every reason to be. He has always been your enemy and a threat. Mine too, for centuries. He just holds that... threatening demeanor around him and it’s hard to see past it. And his nation has done some quite terrible things in the past. He knows that. But so have we all... But did it ever occur for you, that it’s not all there is?”

Toris keeps looking at him, expressionlessly.

“Ivan is... not only what his nation is” Tino is determined to defend the Russian. If no one else in this house was going to.

Silence hangs over them, the uneasiness settling between them again. The Finn wonders could the Baltic ever see past his fears and old grudges against Ivan.

“No he isn’t” Toris says at last. “I believe there’s still much I don’t know about him... that you have learned. But he’s... a very troubled person. I’m not sure if he’s capable of something… stable and good. What you deserve” his last words are gentle.

Tino would have felt happy from them if it wasn’t the way Toris was telling him like some guardian what’s better for him. He’s perfectly capable of deciding that himself.

“He deserves a chance to show he can be that”

A small smile rises on Toris from the Finn’s doubtless words. “You’re a good person, Tino. Not many of us have that… belief for better, like you do. I hope you won’t get hurt for that” his words sound genuine. “But you should never forget that despite how good he acts with you now, he’s still unpredictable, like his nation. And can be… violent too” the smile falls from Toris’ face, like he’s remembering something dire.

Tino frowns at him in doubt, uneasiness crawling in. “Did… something happen?” he asks warily.

The visible insecurity of Toris deepens. “When I came here, after the last partition in 1795… I was quite… rebellious. I was so angry for what he, Prussia and Austria had done to Feliks, to us. So I kept standing up against him, with every chance I could get, even when my brothers warned me not to… At first, he was just so calm, hardly reacting to my disrespectful behaviour at all. He probably thought I’d just naturally calm down eventually, accept my fate. But I didn’t. I continued to push further with my protests until his mask began to crack… But it was when I started to speak Polish at a meeting with the tsar when he lost it”

The Finn listens intently, cold thread freezing him. “And what happened… after that?”

Toris closes his eyes, breathing in and out deeply before he continues. “When we got back here, he bound my hands and covered my eyes, dragged me down to the cellar floor. And then he…” his voice breaks with the last words. He takes a moment to collect himself before continuing. “He chained me, ripped off my shirt and… and… whipped me until I was bleeding” 

Tino’s breath catches, the distress dizzying him.

“And he left me down there, through the night. In the morning, he came back and tended my wounds, smiled and talked to me like nothing happened”

Tino can only stare in disbelief. As personifications of lands, he knows they can be horridly cruel to each other. When they’re at war. But he knows that some spirits of nations have beaten their subjects too for rebelling, but he thought Ivan… was not one to do such. Not after he’s learned to know the man personally. He can’t believe the person he’s come to cherish so much was capable of such cruelty...

“But that happened decades ago. I’m not saying he could do that again to anyone, but… there’s just something so… oppressive about him. He claims he cares about us like family, but wants to shape us into his own liking” Toris’ voice is nearly fragile. Tino finds it dire that the nation, who had been the famous Iron Wolf of Baltic, had turned to this... shivering, insecure man within decades. “He’s different with you, I can see it. And I believe he genuinely cares for you, but… Just be careful. Don’t let your… feelings give him any control over you”

Tino doesn’t know what to say. For the first time, he truly feels uncertain of Ivan.

“Sorry, if I made you uneasy. I just thought you should know…” Toris looks at him apologetically. “And one more thing... I don’t believe what Feliks said. That all our feelings only arise from our nationhood, that we don’t… feel _just_ for ourselves at all… and I don’t think he really believes it either. Because if that was true, me and Feliks could have ever stayed together this long” Toris says, a small, melancholic smile on his lips. “That was all I wanted to say. I don’t judge what you will do, but I hope you have your head clear about what you’re in” the Lithuanian turns around then, reaching for the doorknob.

“Wait, Toris…” Tino calls after him. “Thank you. I’m glad you told me all of that. And… could we… go back to how things were?” he asks in a small voice. _Before 1831?_

The Lithuanian looks at him like he’s in pain. “I wish we could but… I’m not sure if I can”.

He opens the door and leaves without another word. Tino stays standing where he is, his hopes of rekindling their friendship crushed. And left with new insecurity of his relationship with their lord.

That night, he doesn’t go to Ivan’s rooms at all. He doesn’t find the will for it many nights after that.

**_1861_ **

_In Europe, serfdom had been declining since the Middle Ages and had nearly diminished to non-existence. In Russian Empire however, the institution still persisted._

_But 19th century had brought the opposition against peasant slavery in Russia too. The universities, authors and other intellectual societies largely supported it’s abolishment and pushed for reforms. The conversative nobility kept thwarting their efforts constantly, but the opposition kept growing as the serfdom was not only a question of morality, but economically it was largely adverse as well._

_It was Alexander II who finally brought an end to it. With his Emancipation Reform, he abolished serfdom throughout the whole empire._

_In Finland, feudalism was never fully established and serfdom did not exist._

“To our stronger, better future! _Za vashe zdorovie!!_ ” Ivan toasts after he’s finished his speech.

The personifications around him raise their glasses.

“ _Za vashe zdorovie!_ ” they say in union. It’s only Feliks who keeps his mouth firmly shut, hands crossed.

It’s an evening reserved only for celebration. The long dinner table is full of delicacies, traditional foods from all around the empire. Ivan had insisted that all of them would prepare treats and dishes from their homelands, to celebrate the diversity of their vast nation. There’s plenty to drink as well as he had declared that ‘tonight vodka shall flow freely’.

Tino is munching on his second Karelian pie, in mid of a nearly heated debate with Eduard about one Kalevala poem, whether its roots are from Finland or Estonia originally.

“I’m telling you, the word is clearly Finnish, the Ingrian dialect...” he slurs, pointing his finger at his friend with intention. 

“No, it’s absolutely Estonian-” Eduard’s words get stuck as he sees the large Russian appear behind the Finn.

“I know my words!!” Tino insists stubbornly. It takes him a moment to realize Eduard eyes are not on him anymore, timid look in them. He glances behind himself. He doesn’t flinch at all as he sees Ivan standing there.

“Oh, it’s you.... That’s why Eduard looks like he just shit in his pants”

“TINO!!”

Ivan smiles lightly. “Sorry to interrupt your discussion”

“It’s fine. Eduard was clearly losing the argument”

“No, I-I wasn’t!” the Estonian glares at him. He returns it with a smirk.

The three of them stand in their places for a while, before Ivan clears his throat, glancing at Eduard intently. It takes a moment before the Baltic spirit takes the hint.

“ _Oh!_ I’ll just… umm... go to see how… uh... how Ravis is doing!” he says awkwardly, quickly turning on his heels and leaving. He nearly trips on his feet as he does. Tino holds a hand over his mouth, can’t stop himself from giggling at the Estonian’s clumsy leave.

“I thought that after living here for more than a century, he wouldn't be so wary of you anymore. I got over that within few decades”

“But you are special, aren’t you?” the violet eyes look down at him with adoration. That look still makes his heart beat swiftly, his legs weak. “You’ve never been afraid to look at me. To face me. Not since the beginning, not in all wars of our past”

“Well, being neighbors and all, it was better to learn just… to deal with you” Tino smiles at him.

“You have learned indeed” Ivan raises his hand, brushes his cheek shortly “You’ve made quite an unique place of your own in my empire. And in my heart”

Tino doesn’t know how to answer that. Gladly, it seems Ivan is not expecting a reply as he turns to look at the ongoing party around them. He smiles as he gazes at the family he’s built himself. Despite what they’ve done to each other in conflicts from the past, he cares for them deeply, all of them. 

“I do wish the Baltics weren’t so… fearful of me. But I can’t blame them. In the 18th century, I was… a different person” his smile falls. 

Tino glances at him sadly. He remembers too the terrors that the empire had built itself with. As Peter the Great had built the new capital on the backs of slaves, conquered vast areas of land for his growing empire. He still remembers the pure hate he had felt at Ivan back then. As he had stolen Estonia and Livonia, taken him too later within the chaos of the Great Northern War. For seven years his land and people had suffered from terror until Sweden had claimed him back.

But Ivan is different now. Tino _wants to_ believe he is.

“That was back then. You’re not the same. And… we get nothing from holding to grudges of our pasts”

The Russian looks back at him, eyes nearly shining in awe. He steps closer, cradling the Finn’s face in his hands.

“There really is no one like you, Tino” the violet eyes look at him intensively “Will you... come to me tonight?”

The question is cautiously asked. It had not gone unnoticed by Ivan his visits had turned rarer and that there had grown some emotional distance between them. Tino knows he’s caused it himself. Because no matter how much he believed in Ivan, he just couldn’t get out that conversation with Toris out of his head. 

But he can’t keep being uncertain forever. He decides that tonight, he’ll start diminishing that distance. 

“I will… If I’m not crawling on the floor by the end of the evening” he smiles and Ivan laughs with elation.

“Well… I will gladly carry you if you can’t walk yourself”

Tino laughs too. He already feels that easy comfort between them returning. In his insecurity, he’s nearly forgotten the bliss of it.

“ _Mister Russia!!_ ” 

Startling, they look down where Ivan was called. They had not even noticed little Aurel arriving on their side.

“What is it, Bessarabia?” Ivan crouches down, to the boy’s level.

“I… I want you to conquer Romania!!” the boy says determinately.

The Russian blinks, taken aback with the sudden daring request.

“How much have you drunk?” Tino asks, unable to hold back his chuckling.

“It'd be lovely, to reunite you with your brother, but I’m afraid I can’t simply go and conquer a nation without a reason. Especially not one that is a vassal of Ottoman Empire” Ivan replies calmly with a fond smile. The small personification crosses his hands with a huff.

“I thought you were supposed to be strong!”

“Not that strong” he says as he ruffles Aurel’s hair.

Tino feels affection filling him as he looks at them. Despite what horrible things might have happened in the past, Ivan is clearly a different person now. He’d never hurt him, or anyone else here, not anymore. He’s _sure_ of it. And he wishes he can make the others see it too.

**_1863 - January_ **

For once, it’s not towards Ivan’s chambers he’s heading towards as he steps out of his room late at night. Ivan was away from the house again, business of the empire as usual.

This time it’s Eduard he plans to visit, to surprise him and hopefully, the Estonian is not too tired and will welcome his company. He could really do with some late night talk with his best friend right now.

As he reaches the other side of the upper floor, he hears the quiet, but clear whispers from one of the rooms.

“Time to rise is now! The underground movement has gathered men, spread the word, collected weapons… We’re ready to go!” he recognizes Feliks’ voice. 

_Another rebellion?_ Tino feels his chest tightening with anxiety. _Poland and Lithuania, you… fools! Don’t you understand you will only bring harm on yourself again?_

“Is it not too early yet? If we wait for a little longer, we’re better prepared, have more soldiers on our side…” to his shock, the voice speaking up doesn’t belong for Toris. It’s Katyusha’s. Whatever conspiracy the Pole was planning, he could never have expected the Ukrainian to be involved in that madness.

“We can’t afford to wait any longer! Russia and his damned tsar already are suspicious enough of me and my people” Feliks argues.

“But Feliks, are you sure-” Toris’ presence is not a surprise.

“I agree with Poland. We must move now” the third voice is of someone he least of anyone would have believed to be there: Natasha. He can’t believe Feliks had convinced even her, who obviously loves her brother dearly, to join this… Who else is there? Eduard and Ravis too? Even Aurel?

“There’s someone behind the door” the Belarusian speaks up suddenly and Tino freezes. It’s like he can feel the icy stare from behind the door. Seconds after it slams open and Tino meets the angry glare of the ferocious green eyes.

“I-I was on my way to meet… Eduard” he explains lamely. Inside the room, there’s only the four personifications he heard.

“Should have known Russia’s little poodle would be sniffing around” Feliks gruffs.

“ _I’m not--!_ I really was just passing by, I didn’t mean to hear… all of that!”

“So you _did_ hear us”

His eyes fall on the floor in embarrassment. It probably looked like just as the Pole accused him of.

“So everyone… what shall we do with him?” Feliks speaks up, his words with an obvious threat. The Finn stiffens. Least of all, he wants to fight them… and alone he has no chance against the four of them. “Bound him up, leave him in the forest? It’s not like he’ll die. Just freeze for a while maybe. Or get shredded a little, if there’s wolves or something” Feliks smirks as he sees the fear in the Finn’s eyes.

“I won’t tell him” Tino says firmly. As he said, he wasn’t spying on them for Ivan’s behalf. He just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. He has no reason to let the Russian know about this.

“And you think we will like… believe you?” the Pole rolls his eyes.

“What you do is your business. I mean it, I don’t want to get involved-”

“Like you didn’t want to get involved in 1831?” Feliks narrows his eyes.

Tino finds he can’t come up with anything to defend himself after that. He knows they have no reason to believe him. As in their eyes, he’s nothing but the loyal little duchy that bows to Russia without question…

“I believe him” Toris speaks up suddenly. All eyes turn on the Lithuanian, equally in surprise.

“Liet, you can’t seriously-!”

“Po, Finland is not a liar. He might obey the empire, but as long as his land and soldiers are not directly involved, I don’t think he’d ever would want to give us away like that”

The Pole looks at his partner for a long moment, contemplating. Toris holds his gaze. Tino holds his breath.

“Fine” he says at last and then turns back his sharp gaze on the Finn. “You better keep your mouth shut. Or I send my men from Poland all the way to North to shit on your capital”

“I heard nothing at all” Tino replies, relief filling him.

Swiftly, he turns around, heading back where he came from. Late night talk with Eduard can wait until another evening. He feels torn between keeping his loyalty and keeping his word. Tino has always valued, above all, honesty and doing as promised. But if he lets Ivan know of their plan, they can avoid fighting in a war they will lose and perhaps even have the mercy of lighter punishment… But then he would surely lose any last drop of respect the four have left for him.

Tino wishes he had chosen a different evening to see his friend and never learned at all of their plans.

Few days later, as Ivan returns, he decides to keep his word and tells him nothing at all. Even if he knows the Russian would consider it as betrayal.

_After the Crimean War, Russia had been politically and economically weakened. Congress Poland, as well as Lithuania, had been restless ever since and were waiting for their chance to rise again. The patriotic demonstrations started already in 1860 quickly became numerous, despite Russians' strong suppression of them. Alexander II tightened the control in the areas, took brutal repressive measures against the organisers by deporting them into deep Russia. Young Polish men were called to duty in the Imperial Army, an attempt to derail their national movement, but they learn of it beforehand and go underground._ _The seeds of Uprising had been planted and there was no stopping of it anymore._

“Good morning, Finlandiya” Ivan greets him as he walks in the dining hall, to join the breakfast.

“Morning” he replies, rubbing his still drowsy eyes as he takes his seat.

What he notices first is that there’s… very few present there. Only the spirits of Estonia, Livonia and Bessarabia are sitting in their places. And usually he is one of the last ones that arrive here, late sleeper as he is. 

The second thing he notices is the visible tenseness of Eduard, Ravis and Aurel. He realizes quickly what has happened.

“Might you have seen others on your way?” Ivan asks him with a fawning smile. But he can easily tell the man is on edge.

“No, I saw no one” Tino replies, voice even.

“Oh, that is… odd. As neither has anyone else” the Russian’s voice holds a notable pressure now. “Now that you are present too, let me repeat my question for you all… _where are Poland, Lithuania and my sisters?_ ”

The words are spoken in that authoritative, commanding tone, one he always uses when he wants to remind them of their places.

“We-we do not know, mister Russia” Eduard struggles to keep his voice even. Ravis and Aurel keep staring at their plates, motionless.

“Neither do I” Tino wonders if he’s managing to keep up his facade of ignorance. The gaze of the Russian’s violet eyes feels piercing.

“And yet, I feel as if all of you are aware that they’re not in this house”

The Finn clenches his nearly shaking hand into a fist.

“We… we do not know where they have gone-”

“ _So they are gone?!_ ” Ivan’s voice rises so high so quickly as he stands up they all flinch. His eyes are wide, frantic. They raise a sense of thread in Tino he has not felt at the man for decades. No one dares to answer the question and the Finn finds himself hardly being able to hold Ivan’s gaze either. The Russian grabs a glass in front of him and throws it into a wall. Tino jumps at it shatters.

“I’ll send the word for the tsar at once. All of you, get prepared. We have a rebellion to crush” he marches away then, leaving the four of them in their places, distraught and afraid.

Tino can’t keep himself from shaking anymore.

  
  


The mobilization of troops starts without delay.

He can’t help, but pity Toris and Feliks. It was reckless and too daring itself for them to do this again, but now that they’ve dragged in Ivan’s sisters as well, he fears what happens for them after this. What were they thinking? To establish the Commonwealth again? They should know it’s an impossible dream. Russia will never let that happen. And Ivan won’t show mercy on them to guarantee that.

“Finlandiya” he flinches as he hears Ivan behind him. It’s hard not to be tense around him now. The Russian looks down at him seriously, like he’s measuring him. “The empire is living through very volatile times, as you’re aware”

“Yes, it’s a… insecure situation” he says. It’s been long since he’s chosen his words this carefully around Ivan.

“Yes. And you surely know, Alexander II is concerned of who is loyal to him now” the violet eyes stare down on him without a blink. “His subjects all around the empire have sent addresses, to vow their allegiance. But he couldn’t help, but notice… the absence of one from the Grand Duchy”

The coldness from Ivan’s words nearly shivers him. But he will stand his ground.

“Perhaps my people think that their loyalty is so unquestioned there is no need for them to send one”

“Perhaps” Ivan tilts his head. A hint of gentleness is already returning to his expression. “The tsar wants to visit Finland, to see himself the mood of your people. But myself I must head away to Poland with my soldiers, I trust you can handle accompanying Alexander by yourself”

His eyes widen in surprise. “So I will not… join you in Poland?” Tino asks in disbelief.

“No, I believe it is better that you’re present at your own land now” there’s now a soft smile rising on his lips. “I trust you, Tino. And what I need you from now is ensuring that the Grand Duchy stays loyal to the tsar, as the faithful friend to the empire it has always been”

“You’ll have my word” he replies determinately. And relieved that he doesn’t have to again raise his arms against his friends to prove his loyalty.

**_1863 - July_ **

  
  


The whole harbour of Helsinki is decorated and there’s a grand gate erected on the dock, with a welcome greeting in Finnish written on the top. The harbour is swarming with people cheering and waving as the ship floats closer. Soon, a marching band starts playing a prompt, lively tune to welcome them. Tino smiles proudly. The city had really not held back with festivities of the welcoming party.

He glances cautiously at Alexander II, standing next to him. He hopes the ceremony is giving a good first impression at least. But he has no idea what the tsar thinks as the man’s serious expression shows nothing at all. All this parading is meaningless if he doesn’t trust their loyalty for him to be unwavering.

The festivities continue all day. They visit all around the capital, meet with several people of importance and watch parades honoring the tsar. In the evening, even a grand dancing ball is held. His people are really giving their best to convince Alexander II of their faith. Tino can only hope it’s enough.

After a couple of days, their journey continues to _Häme_ , for the final show. It’s where the tsar will examine the state of the military in the country.

Within their welcoming escort from the city, is a familiar face he hadn’t expected to see there.

“Tino, my boy, am I glad to see you!” the presence of one of his closest countrymen there is a pleasant surprise.

“ _Snellman!_ I didn’t expect to see you here! I’m really glad too, but why-?”

“Because I want to give our gracious ruler this” the writer takes out a note. As Tino looks at it closer, he realizes it’s an official document, a declaration. “This here… it will finally rise your language to the status it should be”

He glances at the man in curiosity as he takes it. Tino reads the words written there carefully. A strong enthusiasm rises him as he understands its intent. It’s a regulation... for Finnish to become an official language alongside Swedish in all institutes within 20 years! Only a signature from the tsar himself is missing. His heartbeat quickens, drumming in his chest with zest and pride.

“Is this… for real? You will truly give it to the tsar to sign?”

“As real as you feel it in your hands. And I will personally hand it for Alexander”

He’s in such joy he can only pull the man into a tight embrace. The writer is taken aback with the sudden affection, but soon returns it, smiling fondly.

“Thank you, Snellman...” Tino feels his eyes dampen with emotion.

“I am glad to say that the Grand Duchy is as peaceful as ever” Alexander tells them finally. It felt like he has kept him and all his statemen on the edge all the while, hardly expressed his opinions until now. “Finland remains as the faithful subject to the empire. I’ll see it will receive the respect it deserves. To show my gratitude, I’ll announce that there will a Diet to be hold in September, where I and the estates will discuss the future of legislative matters in the Grand Duchy”

His relief turns to intense joy in seconds. He hadn’t expected the outcome to be _this good_. The tsar was basically expressing his willingness for more sovereign self-governance for his land’s constitution!

Tino smiles widely in his happiness, looking forward to a brighter future he’s sure he’ll have. Alexander II might turn out to be one of his most generous rulers in the Grand Duchy.

_The Diet of Estates is held in Helsinki, beginning in September 1863 and lasts until next spring in its entirety. The changes made included making a Diet a regularly convening body and right for estates for legal initiatives concerning all except the constitutional questions. Finns had wished for stronger self-governing changes, but Alexander II had still ended the silence of the Diet that had not been assembled since 1809._

_From Poland, the uprising had spread to Lithuania, parts of Belarus, Ukraine and Livonia too. Despite the rebels’ unyielding resilience, they were still unable to arm themselves properly and were heavily outnumbered. The underground Polish National Government counted on eventually receiving foreign aid. Even if great powers in Western Europe, such as France and Great Britain, sympathized with the Poles they did not offer any support in the end except diplomatic efforts as they were unwilling to fall into another conflict with Russia. Without the support, the insurgents were forced to use risky guerrilla tactics that were not effective enough against the trained Imperial soldiers. Rebels caught were publicly executed or deported to Siberia which led many to find the fighting hopeless and abandoned the struggle. Despite the desperate situation, the Uprising continued all year and lasted until June 1864._

**_1864_ **

In the decades since becoming the Grand Duchy, he’s never got to spend time this long in his country. A full year.

And now that he’s back in St. Petersburg, he feels it so vividly, the emptiness and the disconnection, how he just doesn’t belong here in the same way he belongs when he’s on his own soil. How every cell in him just longs back to be where his people are.

He was half of Sweden for centuries, so integrated with another he had just forgotten what it really meant to hold his own pride, this sense of belonging, to his own roots.

He can understand now, somehow, Feliks’ constant rebellions. The Pole must feel this disconnection far worse than him, as his kingdom holds a proud and rich history of hundreds of years before it was torn apart. For one’s national pride to be ripped out of their hands like that, must have left that deep hate in him.

He still doesn’t support his actions, but he understands now why Feliks does what he does.

_  
  
_

The door opening from the hallway startles Tino. He puts away the book he’d been reading and stands up. He’s been alone here for weeks, just waiting for others to come back. Even if he knows what it means. The Uprising has been crushed for good.

“Welcome hom-” the words die on his lips as he sees them.

Ivan looks at him blankly, on him that oppressive and intimidating aura that used to make him afraid in his former life. That glimpse of his past has him feeling vaguely afraid, even if there is no reason to. 

By the Russian’s side are Eduard, Ravis and Aurel who had been put on a duty of joining him on the battlefield. They all look glum, worn out. Tino had never agreed to Ivan’s decision to take them with him, they didn’t deserve to see all that misery. But he knows Ivan had wanted them to see it with their own eyes, what happens to the rebels in this empire.

Behind them, stand the four fugitives. In chains.

All of them look worn down with fatigue of months of desperate fighting that had been in vain in the end. Their bitterness with their loss is distinct. But it’s the state of Feliks that shakes him the most.

He just looks so… broken. The green eyes seem to have lost their unyielding spunk as now they only look downwards, blank and hazy, his whole posture dejected. Like this time he’s been stomped down so deeply the phoenix won’t rise at all from his ashes.

In that moment, Tino sincerely wishes the outcome would have been different.

“Thank you, Finlandiya. I’m glad to say that now, we all are home” Ivan’s words break off his staring. The Russian regards him with a gentle smile. He hardly finds the will to return it.

_  
  
_

The atmosphere at the dinner table that evening is stiflingly tense. There is no conversation, none of the familiarity they had managed to build between themselves with decades of living together. Tino wonders if they are now broken beyond repair - could Ivan ever truly forgive them this time?

“Polša, you must eat” Ivan speaks up suddenly. It had not unnoticed that Feliks was only numbly staring at his plate, motionless.

“I’m not hungry” he says quietly. Tino thinks he’s never heard the Pole sound this… dispirited. But he’s still impressed, that even now, in this state, he shows a hint of resistance at their lord.

“You will eat or I will shove that food down your throat” the Russian’s voice holds pressure now, showing he means every single word.

For a while, Feliks does nothing as Ivan stares at him. All personifications around the table have tensed up, waiting for the worst. But at last, Feliks picks up his spoon and reaches for his soup. When he sips a spoonful of it, Ivan smiles and continues his eating as if nothing happened.

“To ensure your safety and peace of our house in the future, I must change the rules I’ve applied for each of you” he speaks up again. “Estonia, Livonia, Bessarabia - your lives won’t change, your governorates will stay as they are” the three small personifications’ postures visibly wind down after the words “Ukraine and Belarus, I understand you’re not fully at fault here. You were… incited by your previous ruler, misled by his false promises. But as you were involved, you will face stricter code here now on. Your visits to your lands will be fewer and I will attend every one of them” he speaks in commanding manner, but it’s clear Ivan doesn’t want to put the blame on his sisters, doesn’t _want to_ believe they’d want to break away from him merely by their own will. It’s easier to just put all that blame on Feliks. He turns his gaze on the Pole and his partner next to him, eyes cold and pitiless 

“Poland and Lithuania. You two are without doubt the two culprits of this folly. What you did has broken our harmony, one I’ve tried to patiently build since your first rebellion. I’ve tried to maintain it so carefully, so we could all feel content here, see each other as comrades, _family._ But you two… you never even considered that, did you?” Ivan sounds angrier with every word “I wanted this to be different. I wished you’d grow to your positions, as faithful confederates of the empire. Because with your strength, we’d have grown strong, all of us together. But all you wanted was to go back to your precious Commonwealth… Constantly rising against me, disturbing our peace. Why can’t you just accept that your kingdom is _dead and buried!_ ” the calm tone he started with is gone and now there’s only furious shouting. After his outburst, the Russian breathes heavily, eyes frantic as he stares at his subjects with repulsion. Right now, Tino can’t recognize the man he feels affection for. Because this man looks like he wouldn’t hesitate to brutally crush anyone who stood on his way. Ivan seems to compose himself back to his mask of calmness and confidence.

“You will be under strict observance now. Anything you do will not go unnoticed in the house now. You will receive no letters, no papers, _nothing,_ that comes through me first. And if they are written in something else than Russian, they will not go farther from my fireplace. You won’t leave the house unattended. And before the last scraps of your radical nationalism has been weeded out, you won’t visit your lands at all”

Tino feels his chest tighten. That might take decades. To be completely disconnected from your land, of your people, for so long is one of the worst things he can imagine for any personification. He understands Ivan’s reasons, but… it’s just so cruel.

“I’m glad to say there is still one here who has my unquestioned trust… Finlandiya, the Grand Duchy has once again showed to Russia that it remains as the faithful friend, even when half of Empire is in chaos”

If the situation was different, he’d feel infinitely proud from Ivan’s words. But right now, it only feels unfair. While others were losing the last bits of any sovereignty, his was only widening.

“You are free to go to your lands as you wish. You don’t need my approval for your visits anymore and will handle your business there as you see fit”

It’s such a stark contradiction to what Feliks and Toris just lost that he can only feel uneasy with his ‘promotion’. And announcing it like that, in front of everyone is clearly there to emphasize what loyal subjects can gain. But if that was only what was between him and Ivan… but as they all know the relationship runs far deeper than that, they will continue only to see him as nothing but ‘the favorite’. 

What is sure now is that the drift between him and the others here will only grow wider again.

Later that evening, Tino heads towards Ivan’s rooms. But it’s not a longing for intimacy he’s going there for.

Ivan smiles at him as the Finn steps in, pleased for his presence. He doesn’t waste time reaching his side, pulling him into a tight embrace.

“I’ve missed you, Tino. In all that misery, I thought of your eyes, of your body against mine. Some nights they were the only thing I could find comfort in” he whispers and kisses his forehead. His hand is already fumbling with the shorter man’s clothes, to get to touch the skin underneath.

“Could we talk?” Tino interrupts him, taking hold of that hand.

Ivan frowns lightly, but stops. “Of course”

They’re in the same position back when it was just a fellowship between them. Sitting by Ivan’s working table, glasses with vodka on top of it. Ivan looks at him contemptivately, waiting for him to speak up. Tino puts aside his own insecurity. This is not about him.

“Are you sure about… restricting them like this?” he asks at last. He doesn’t need to explain who he means. Ivan seems perfectly aware as his gaze turns more serious.

“ _Da._ I’m clear about it” he says, without further explanations. Tino realizes he has to push if he wants better filled replies.

“I… I think it’s going too far” he’s not sure where he found the courage to challenge the Russian like this. Ivan’s violet eyes widen, indignant. “I understand why you’re doing it... But as long as their people keep being stubborn, they will always try to find a way to support them. It’s a threat for you, alright. But this… completely segregating them from their lands, ripping them out from their identity, will do nothing but inflame their hate towards you”

Ivan keeps looking at him quietly. Tino can’t make anything of his blank expression. The ashen haired man sighs and takes a gulp of his drink.

“It might be a cruel measure, but it’s necessary. I tried to be a benevolent ruler initially, I really did. I gave Poland autonomy, I let Lithuania have his prestigious university in Vilnius… I let them have as much sovereignty I dared, so they’d realize they no longer would have to see me as their enemy. That my empire could offer them the protection their own kingdom couldn’t” the way he speaks feels like Ivan sincerely believes his nation’s good intentions. “But they answered me with only spite and revolt, time after time. I realized they’d never be satisfied, they’d always look to the West and would rather choose the instability of being a nation of their own, squashed between greater powers where they could never be safe. And I realized that for them, only a stronger unity of their countries with Russia could calm them” Tino is amazed how deep Ivan’s faith in his own words seems to be. That his oppression could make them… see reason? 

“But… what about the Grand Duchy? You’ve seen it yourself, we… I _thrive_ with the sovereignty you’ve given me. Doesn’t that prove that… lessened control will gain their respect, their loyalty with time?” he asks cautiously. If he could only make the Russian see that he doesn’t have to do this…

“You’ve always been different, Finlandiya” Ivan smiles at him fondly. “You can see reason, can make the best out of the situation. You can see beyond our old grudges, past wars as we both know there’s been so many of them. But Poland and Lithuania, they only try to hold on to the glory of their past… They can’t see beyond their bitterness for losing what they had. For them I will never be anything than the oppressor, no matter what I do”

Tino doesn’t know what to reply after that. He doesn’t like to admit it, but Ivan is… right, somehow at least.

“But... I will consider your words. Because they always have good intentions” the Russian surprises him and small joy rises in him. It’s not any promise, but it’s something. And he knows he can persuade Ivan further, in other ways too... 

Tino rises from the chair, holds Ivan’s gaze as he walks towards him. The Russian doesn’t rise from his seat even when he’s in front of him. It’s rare that he gets to look down at the much taller personification like this. He can already see the vivid desire in the violet eyes. Putting his hands on the broad shoulders, he leans on them for support and moves to sit astride on Ivan’s lap.

“I hope you will consider them carefully…” he leans down for a kiss “Now, let me show my gratitude for all things you’ve granted for the Grand Duchy. And how much I’ve missed you”

_Congress Poland is abolished after January Uprising, fully incorporated into Russia and turned to county of Vistula Land. Polish language is banned from offices and education._ _Lithuania too is forced to similar reforms. The previous lands of Commonwealth go under heavy Russification._

_  
  
_Tino does his best in trying to persuade the Russian to loosen his suffocating grip around Feliks and Toris. He suggests small concessions, speaks how well they are doing their chores, offers to watch over them himself to see that they won’t act out of line... But despite all his effort (both verbal and _physical_ ), Ivan is immovable. It dawns on him that he’s not able even on his position to change the mind of an empire.

**_1868_ **

_In Finland, crops had been poor sequentially for several years in the 1860s. The population had been highly rising all through the 19th century, but the agriculture in the country was still weak. The spring of 1867 is very cold, the summer rainy and in the autumn, harvest fails completely as night frosts of the winter arrive very early. As the sea is frozen and the railway to St. Petersburg is still incomplete, receiving foreign crops is nearly impossible. With the governance of the country unprepared and reacting too late to the crisis, Finland falls into severe food shortage._

The cough won’t stop.

Since last year, he’s felt weak with fatigue that only seemed to be getting worse and worse. And all the while, he’s been getting thinner and his hunger just won’t go away, no matter what he eats. His body is now drained out of all its strength, bones sticking out in all places, his skin pale as winter. Tino feels like a ghost that’s slowly fading away. 

But somehow, he wakes up each day. He hardly has the energy to leave his room, but he’s still there. His people are suffering, but they’re tough, they won’t perish away even if in his worst moments he fears like they will.

Eduard comes to see him every day, always brings food and helps him to eat it despite his protests. It’s embarrassing, needing to be fed like a child like that, but Tino knows if it weren’t for his friend’s persistence he wouldn’t finish half of it. As every bite tastes like quilt as he feels inside him how his people are starving. After his meals, he’s never sated.

But it’s not the never ending tiredness and hunger that’s the worst. It’s the nightmares.

In them, he sees the frail people wandering on the roads, their eyes empty and hungry. They look like ghosts. Sometimes, he’s among them, walking ahead without destination, just to find something to fill his empty stomach with.

Ivan comes to comfort him whenever he can. Stroking him gently as he tells him fairytales or reads poems. When Tino feels like he’s at his worst, the Russian lies down with him, gathering him in his arms. Tino sobs against his chest as he whispers small comforts ( _‘it’ll be alright’, ‘this too will pass - you’ll rise again’_ )

When the worst of it is over, Ivan tells him there will be a railway to be built between his capital and St. Petersburg. So that his people will never again face such famine.

_Between 1867 and 1868, over eight percent of the population in Finland perished from famine and diseases. It’s memory cast a long shadow in people’s minds for decades. The agriculture in the land started to develop swiftly to avoid such a crisis to ever occur again. It was the last major naturally caused famine in Europe._

**_1870_ **

He’s finally feeling better. Even if the famine had left him scarred, it’ll take long before his mind can heal from it, the future seems brighter again.

It’s a quiet summer evening. The air is warm and calm, nothing but sound of nature surrounding him. A perfect evening to just sit here, in silence and lose oneself in a story, let the world of words take you away. The book he’s reading has certainly succeeded in that.

It’s not a typical work his writers usually do, of heroes and myths or a noble story of his folk they take pride for. Compared to them, this one is far more… realistic. The characters are anything but noble, even unflatteringly stubborn and simple people. Not a hint of the romantic elements he’s used to reading. And yet, he finds this very different description of them… intriguing. It’s nothing like anything he’s read in his language before.

It’s such a plainly honest writing of his folk it feels like home.

He’s not sure how long he has sat there before the sound of footsteps behind him awakens him. He looks over his shoulder, meeting the familiar violet eyes.

“What are you reading?” Ivan asks, peeking at the text.

“A new work. From one yet unknown writer” Tino smiles up at him. “It’s… different. Very honest. Absolutely nothing romantic about it. But I think it will gain recognition in my land’s literature circles. It surely deserves it”

“Sounds like a very brave book” Ivan sits down next to him “Not many dare to take a different route from one that is favored at the time... What’s it’s name?”

“Seven brothers”

“I’d like to hear you tell me the story sometime”

The request delights him. These days, they rarely spent their evenings with stories and poems anymore. Ivan had become more interested to hear rather about the development of his land and opinions of his people, especially regarding their empire. Most often, their evenings just turned heated so quickly that no story could be finished then.

“Give me time and I’ll translate it for you” Tino leans to kiss his cheek.

Ivan smiles lightly, but it doesn’t last long. 

“What’s wrong?” Tino asks as he sees the concerned frown on the other’s expression.

“It’s just… the situation in the Balkan. The nations there, under Ottoman Empire’s rule, are getting restless. And they want me to help them”

The Finn nods thoughtfully. Russia’s relations with Turks had been poor since Crimean war. It wouldn’t be surprising if another conflict were to break out between two empires.

“And you will go to help them…?” he asks.

“If my Slavic comrades plead for my help, I will give it. Their people are Christians under Ottomen rule. They need protection”

 _And you will secure your position at the Black Sea._ He’s learned to read the political intentions between the lines with time. Of course it was simply not of his good will and compassion that Ivan wished to intervene if the situation escalated.

“Your battalion might have the chance to gain reputation again...” the Russian has that glint in his eyes and his voice is over flattering. Tino rolls his eyes.

“Alright I will go” he says, having already guessed the request that would have followed. There’s a hand on his cheek, turning him to face Ivan.

“It’s always pleasant to do business with you. Such amenable-”

“Business? That’s all we are?” he asks teasingly.

The hand moves on his chest now, pushing him on the ground gently. His vision is soon suffused by Ivan’s large frame, staring down on him intensively.

“Far more than that” the Russian leans down and he closes his eyes as his lips are captured.

The ground scratches his back and he’s sure it will leave red, aching grazes there, but right now, it doesn’t bother him at all. All he can feel is the intense heat between them as they chase their pleasure. Ivan takes a firm hold on his hip, moving harder and he sees stars.

“Do you remember the first time we met?” Ivan asks him after their passion has quieted down. They’ve lied there, on the forest bed, in complete silence for a long moment.

“Yes. In Viking age, when you were still Novgorod…” he replies. He still has a clear memory of their first encounter: one winter night centuries ago at forests near Karelia. Both of them had been small as children. And he had been so scared “Not gonna lie. I honestly felt a bit freaked out of you back then”

Ivan chuckles. “Well, I’m sorry for leaving such… bad first impression”

“That’s just past. Like all of our wars…”

The long fingers stroke his hair. “How far we’ve come” Tino feels him smiling against his hair. 

“But the first time I saw you, I already knew it…” the tone of Ivan’s voice changes slightly. It’s still gentle, but there’s some another… shade to it. That somehow unsettles him “Already then, there was... something about you. I knew you were something rare, someone who could... understand me. It left me such _longing_. And I knew you’d be _mine_ someday. I didn’t care how long it’d take, I just knew”

Tino knows the words are meant to be affectionate. But all he can feel of them is distress. The words felt far too possessive. 

**_1877_ **

_Liberating Balkan Christians from Ottoman rule became the leading domestic and foreign political factor in Russia. The empire aimed to support Bulgaria and Serbia to gain independence and make them quasi-protectorates of Russia._

_The Balkan crisis broke out with rebellions of Christian population in Bosnia and Herzegovina against Islamic Ottomen in 1875. The conflict spread to a full scale war as the autonomic duchies Serbia and Montenegro began to support them and declared war against their ruler empire. After suffering a great defeat to turks, they retreat to the mountain side and the conflict continues as guerrilla warfare._

_In 1876, Bulgarian rebellion broke out which Ottoman Empire suppressed brutally. The cruelty of the suppression raises uproar in the press all around Europe, but none of the Western nations dare to intervene, being the traditional allies to the turks._

_To support the Slavic struggle and offered a chance to gain power at Black Sea, Russia begins an offensive against the Ottoman Empire in April 1877._

  
  


It’s spring when they reach the soil of Romania, a Slavic ally who will aid them against the Turks. It’s the first time he's come this far in the Balkan, at the very outskirts of Europe. And the first time that he’s meeting the personification of Romania.

The person waiting for them on the field is a young lean man with brown hair. As they get closer, Tino is surprised to notice the eyes staring at them are bright red, like blood.

“Haven’t seen you around here in ages, Ivan” the casual greeting tells the two are old acquaintances. But Tino is not sure whether their relations are purely friendly, as the look in the Romanian’s eyes doesn’t seem solely benevolent.

“You know how it is between me and your empire. Sadiq simply can’t stand my presence anywhere near his borders” Ivan replies with a smile, shaking the hand offered.

“Then he will be so pissed off when we cross Danube. I’ll look forward to see that” the crimson eyes gleam before they move on to Tino. “and who is this?”

“Ah, you two have not met each other yet. Pardon my rudeness… He is Grand Duchy of Finland, a marvelous land in the north” Ivan introduces him proudly. 

“It’s good to meet you, Romania. Your land is beautiful” Tino bows lightly.

“So you’re one of the fellows living with him at St. Petersburg?” Romania seems suddenly genuinely interested, as a moment ago he had none of it.

“He is my most trusted subject. And valued” the Russian squeezes his shoulder, but right now Tino doesn’t feel affection for his compliments. He vaguely feels like a show horse exhibited and he’s not entirely comfortable about it. “His battalion is among my troops so I asked him to join this campaign. He’s feisty as a fighter. And one of the most skilled sharpshooters I’ve seen”

“I hope you’ll prove his words in the battle” Romania offers him a grin. 

“Watch me” Tino returns it with a confident smile.

“He’s surprisingly strong for his size” Ivan says and Tino glares at the Russian stubbornly. “I must speak with my generals. I’ll leave you two to get familiar to one another”

As Ivan takes his leave, the Finn feels self-conscious suddenly. He’s never been good at small talk with strangers.

“So… you have autonomy in the Ottoman Empire right? How does it work?” he asks as nothing else comes to his mind. But he curses the moment he says the words as he realizes that right now probably wasn’t a proper thing to ask... “Not very well, obviously, as now you’re at war, but I was just wondering because I too have aut-” 

“It’s not independence” Romania replies sharply, interrupting his embarrassed mumbling. “And my people have struggled enough, bowing to Turks for centuries. They won’t stand it anymore. As them, I’m sick of Ottoman Empire”

Tino nods thoughtfully. Obviously, the Slav has not been a content subject for quite long.

“How is Bessarabia?” he asks suddenly. The longing in his voice is distinct.

“I don’t think he’s lonely there” Tino smiles at him, feeling empathy for the spirit so clearly missing his younger brother. “We all look after him. And he’s found a good friend with one of the Baltics. He and Livonia seem to have found the joy of youth again, together”

Romania looks relieved, a fond smile rising on him. Tino is glad his words have brought him some comfort.

“When my independence is recognized, I will grow strong… So strong I can unite with Bessarabia” there’s strong determination in his eyes. The Finn looks at his cautiously, the conversation suddenly drifted to dangerous waters.

“You… you’re not planning to challenge Russia, are you?” _and should you even be telling ME about this?_

“Challenge? No way… I don’t have to beat him. Just wait until his empire falls on himself”

“What do you mean?”

“Have you paid attention to lessons of history at all? Empires like him, they never last. It’s too vast, too many people there with different backgrounds. Sooner or later, it will make him weak. I don’t have to wage war on him at all, his empire will rip him apart itself” Romania smiles confidently and now Tino feels his empathy is turning to defiance. He won’t stand to hear the other talk so threateningly of Ivan.

“Watch your mouth, Romania. You should know I stand as loyal to the--”

“What’s up with all that defence? Can’t you see the chance in there for you too?”

Tino frowns in doubt. “What are you talking about?”

“Do I really have to spell it out for you?” Romania looks at him like he’s talking to a fool. “What I mean is, as he gets weaker, all those small lands under him, will surely take their chance to get away. I hope you won’t waste yours when the time comes” 

He finds he’s at loss of answer to that. It’s not something he’s really given a thought to before at all. After all, he and his people were content with what they had… But now, hearing even the mere possibility of standing as a nation purely their own… But thoughts like that are too uncertain, too daring aspirations. He’s loyal to Russia, happy with his place, by Ivan’s side… ( _he’s been telling that to himself for decades now. It has to be true. There… can’t be any other way. Can there?_ )

The blood red eyes look at him contemplatively. “But for you, your loyalty is… more personal, isn’t it?”

Romania’s expression is like he’s catched an understanding of their relationship. Tino looks away, but can’t stop the blush from rising on his cheeks.

“Wait, you _really_ …?” the Slav covers his mouth, eyes widening. He chuckles then and the Finn feels his blush deepening. “Didn’t know he had a thing for blonds… But no judgement here. I don’t care what you two do” his laughing ceases away and once again, he’s serious. “But I hope you understand to let it go if needed, for your own sake. As the spirit of your land, you should always choose your people first”

“O-of course” Tino says. He hopes it will never come to that, choosing between his fondness for Ivan and Finland’s aspirations.

“So… tell me about your land. I honestly know nothing about it” Romania continues.

“Can’t say the same about you. Your brother has told me _everything_ ”

“That noisy brat…” the expression on him is fond despite his words “Well, saves me from explaining all the complications of being Turkish highway to Europe… Well, go ahead. Tell me of this marvellous land in the north”

“Well, let’s start with how Vikings from Scandinavia arrived to my shores…” Tino begins.

_Russian troops move across Romania which supports them. In answer, Ottoman Empire bombards Romanian towns on Danube. In May, the principality declares independence and establishes itself as the kingdom of Romania._

_In the summer, Russians and Romanians cross the river of Danube. They advance to Bulgaria and siege the city of Plevna. The siege turns to their victory as the maintenance routes of Ottomen are successfully cut off with help from Bulgarians in December._

**_1878_ **

“A ceasefire?” he asks in disbelief. Their campaign has fared so well, he just can’t understand why would they stop now...

“Yes. England has been… quite upset with the situation. He’s sent a fleet to support the Ottoman and made it very clear in the negotiations he won’t stand it if we try to take Constantinople” Ivan explains. The frustrated tune in his voice is clear.

 _Of course it was the mighty Britain that saw it was his right to intervene._ Tino scoffs.

“We had gotten so far… I’ve bet, we could have just marched in there if--”

“Who knew the ever peaceful Finland would be so eager to invade a city that’s so far from his home?” Ivan smiles at his blustering.

“I really wanted to see it. The Constantinople” Tino crosses his hands, frowning. He’s heard so much about the great city in the East, between Europe and Asia, rich with culture and life. Of course he’s upset to miss it, especially right outside it...

“You will have another chance. In times of peace, we’ll go there, as simple travellers” Ivan cradles his face between his large hands. “I expect the war will end soon”

“We’re already giving in for peace negotiations?”

“I’d rather not try the temper of British empire... I have secured the state of Balkan nations. We should stop now while we’re winning” Ivan leans down for a chaste kiss before he lets go. “Your battalion has fought exceptionally once again. The tsar will surely recognize their efforts. Go, celebrate with your men”

Tino smiles at him, chest bursting with pride from the praise. The conflict had claimed the lives of many of his soldiers, but their efforts had not been in vain. Those who return home, will enjoy a lifetime of glory and wealth.

He reaches the camp of his battalion, already merrily drinking and singing. The news of ceasefire must already have reached them as they seemed to hold no concern for tomorrow morning.

“Boys! Look who’s here!” 

It’s amazing how all of them light up and act like young lads instead of grown men as they see him. His mere presence just seems to raise their spirits.

As he walks up to them, he’s soon grabbed by the pile of merry Finnish men, squished between them. They’ve already been drinking for awhile, haven’t they?

“We’ll be going home soon, won’t we?”

“Can’t wait! I’ve got a fine lady waiting for me there! I promised I’d marry her if I come back-”

“They better hold one hell of a party when we return!”

Tino can only laugh as the men around chatter excitedly. He hopes he will have the chance to join them when they reach Helsinki before he heads back to St. Petersburg.

“He must hear the song!” one of them yells.

“What song?” his curiosity awakens immediately.

“It’s not quite finished yet, but we’ll surely have it ready on the way home-”

“Come on, let’s sing it for him!”

They step away from him, to stand in front of him instead, in a row next to each other. Their smiles are blazing. It fills him with fondness, like a father of his sons, even if physically Tino is much younger than them.

“One, two, three…” they count before they begin.

_Kauan on kärsitty vilua ja nälkää_

_Balkanin vuorilla taistellessa_

_Oi, kallis kotimaa, Suomi sulo Pohjola_

_Ei löydy maata sen armaampaa ..._

Their singing sounds horribly out of tune and none of them really have the talent. But Tino finds it more beautiful than anything he’s heard in a long time.

_Treaty of San Stefano ends the Russo-Turkish war at Balkan. Grand Duchy of Bulgaria is created, gaining sovereignty after 500 years under Ottoman rule. The independence of Montenegro, Romania and Serbia are recognized too by the Turks. Russia can largely dictate the terms there in its favour and gains naval bases to the Mediterranean through Bulgaria._

_Alarmed with Russia’s growing influence, France and Britain want a revision to the treaty not favorable for them. In the Congress of Berlin, led by the just united Imperial Germany, Great Powers in Europe assemble to decide the fate of the Balkans._

_The new nations keep their independence, but confines of the countries are redrawn. Britain gains Cyprus while Bosnia and Herzegovina shift under the quorum of Austria-Hungary._

_The conference had led to the birth of new sovereign nations, finally letting them free after centuries under Ottoman Empire, but it had led to great disputes between great powers as well. The League of Three Emperors between Germany, Austria-Hungary and Russia, established in 1873 was disbanded as their interest heavily clashed with Russia supporting Serbia, which the others feared of igniting the Slav populations against Austria-Hungary._

_Instead of ensuring peace, Congress of Berlin had planted the seeds to further conflicts in future._


	6. Chapter 6

**_1880_ **

  
  


His back hits the wall with a hard ‘thump’ as he’s pushed against it. Tangling his fingers in the ashen hair, Tino opens his mouth and the battle for dominance begins ( _in the end, he always loses. As Ivan is always the one in control, in any position they are_ ).

Ivan has him firmly backed in the corner, kissing him senseless. He hardly gets to catch his breath between. A hand trails downwards, along his torso and hips roll against his. His gasps turn to pleading whines and his grasp on Ivan tightens, needing to feel _more_ and _closer_. The Russian smiles against his lips, thinking he’s already won. And it would be a sweet surrender, to simply let him take the charge already. But Tino’s not content to let him have the easy victory this time. Overcome with his sudden competitive spirit, he bites down hard on Ivan’s lower lip.

Startled with the sudden pain, the taller man steps back slightly and Tino takes the chance to duck away under his arms. He takes a few feet distance, smiling impishly. Ivan presses his thumb on his aching lip, abashed for a moment, but the corners of his lips rise as he looks back at the Northerner. Tino tilts his head, like a child trying to play innocent after misbehavior.

“Oh, did I hurt you?”

“Terribly” Ivan says dangerously and starts coming towards him with heavy, slow steps. Like a beast prowling its prey. The hunger in the violet eyes is inciting.

Tino holds that gaze as he steps backwards.

Their combat continues between sheets. Lying on their sides, hands and tongues roaming each other, trying to make one another lose control. When Ivan bites his neck and grabs his backside, he nearly gives in. But he’s not content to lose just yet.

Tino pushes at his chest, until the Russian is on his back and takes the chance to rise upon him. He rolls his hips down, grinding and Ivan groans underneath him, eyes falling close. A proud grin rises on his lips. He won this one.

Or almost did. Without warning, the large hands grab his hips, throwing him off the balance and suddenly he’s the one on his back. Before he can react, his wrists are firmly gripped and pressed down with force. Any control he had is gone.

Ivan smiles above him victoriously. He leans down and begins trailing gentle, teasing kisses along his neck, teeth grazing there at times. Tino knows he’ll need a scarf again tomorrow. 

His wrists are still firmly held above his head. The grip on them is tight, nearly painfully so. A reminder for him to remember his place. _Always underneath_.

  
  


The gentle afterglow that follows after has him high on sweet daze, as always. That alone is worth the roughness and force that’s sometimes just too much for him… It doesn’t matter, he always feels better afterwards, even with the pain. 

Tall fingers stroke his back and his eyes have fallen close, feeling content and euphoric. Ivan seems at peace too, from outside, but with years Tino has learned to read the man better. The slight, nearly obscure tenseness of him hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks and for a short moment the stroking stops, confirming he had indeed been right.

“Of our future” Ivan replies. The Finn frowns. As always, his answer is only vague words, hardly an answer at all.

“Can’t we… just be here and now?”

The Russian sighs and places a kiss on his hair. “With you, I nearly can”

He doesn’t push further after that. He’s learned as well with time that Ivan will speak his mind eventually, if he wants to.

“I worry for Alexander” Ivan opens up at last.

“Another assasination attempt?” Tino asks and snuggles closer, resting forehead on Ivan’s cheek and nose under his chin, trying to bring comfort for his lover. 

Despite the liberal and reforming will of the tsar, many in the empire were not happy with his rule. There had been several cases of assassins going after his life.

“There was an explosion under the dining room of Winter Palace. 11 people died”

“They’re getting bolder…”

“Fortunately, he or his family had not been present at the time” Ivan’s voice is heavy, drained. “I don’t understand. He’s been such a good, generous tsar… He’s changed things for better and none before him have been so open to change. Why are they not ever satisfied?” the Russian sounds so sad and disappointed that Tino feels his chest ache in pity. He raises his hand to cradle the man’s other cheek.

“I know... He doesn’t deserve to fear for his life like this” he whispers. As Ivan, he adores deeply their current tsar, like his people do. It’s because of Alexander II they can enjoy such great cultural and economic growth. Finns would never hurt him. A bizarre idea comes to his mind from the thought. “He should move to the Grand Duchy, he’d never have to worry over his life there... My people adore him, they’d protect him fiercely”

He feels corners of the Russian’s lips rising. “What an odd, wonderful idea... But I’m afraid it’s simply not possible. The tsar can’t hide from his responsibilities, no matter how much they're putting his life at risk…” 

“Perhaps he should retire early and move there then” Tino attempts at humor, but neither of them laughs. Both of them know that a tsar retires only with death.

**_1881_ **

_Despite the several reforms implemented and liberal rule of Alexander II, he still held a large group of opposition against him, against the still very autocratic system that prevailed in Russia. And that opposition had steadily grown more radical within years._

_Narodnaya Volya (“People’s Will”), a revolutionary political organization, wanted to overthrow this system and establish democracy in the country. They believed in the efficacy of terrorism as a means of achieving that. Seven times, they attempt to assassinate the tsar. With the eight, they succeed._

Ivan stares at the letter, his face pale and hands shaking. Something terrible has happened.

“I must go to the Winter Palace” he says as he stands up and leaves without another word. His dinner is left unfinished on the table.

The eight personifications sitting in their places along the long table look at each other in plain confusion. The courier had appeared so suddenly with his letter, in the middle of their dinner. It must have been crucial as Ivan hardly ever let anything interrupt their gathering of the day like that. Restless atmosphere settles over them quickly.

“So they finally did it” Feliks speaks up. There’s an arrogant rising on his lips, an expression he’s not dared to hold for so long. “Good. I was tired of that pompous, pretending to be a liberal bastard”

The Pole has not spoken like this since his last uprising. He hasn’t dared. He has not spoken his mind at all, kept his head low and mouth shut. And obviously, he’s had enough, ready to pour out all that frustration.

Tino grits his teeth. He won’t stand for such insulting talk of Alexander II who had granted him so much.

“He was a good tsar. Show your respect”

The green eyes turn on him quickly, in them deep contempt. Tino holds the gaze unwaveringly.

“I have no intention to respect a suppressor who stole the last remains of my people’s pride. And not only mine… Lithuania, Ukraine, Belarus... We all are more than happy to see him gone”

“That would have never happened if you had-”

“Bow and kept my mouth shut? Worshipped the ground under his feet? Thought you’d had learned by now I’d never lower myself to that”

Indignation rises in the Finn. The scenario is something they’ve gone through several times before and yet, Feliks can never see the fault of his actions. Despite being proved twice they’ve only brought him stance lower in the empire.

In his anger, he slams his hands on the table. Eduard flinches next to him.

“You still don’t get it… It’s your own pride that was your downfall!” he shouts as anger is too much to keep in anymore. “You could’ve had what I have now, if you had just tried to adapt instead of that constant protesting. And what has that earned you? Nothing!”

For once, Feliks is quiet. But the look in his eyes is still full of spite. Tino breathes out heavily and continues.

“And you just refuse to see past your grudge against Rus-against Ivan. He’s tried to be good, but you won’t even give him the chance! In your story, he’s just the villain. And that narrative is easy, isn’t it? Just to _play the victim_ ” he’s surprised even himself how harsh the words feel. But he’s past being kind anymore.

The Pole stares at him blankly, the words clearly had their effect. For a short moment, Tino wonders if he managed to get through to him this time. But soon, Feliks scoffs, a caustic smile rising on him.

“Wow. He has like… totally brainwashed you, hasn’t he?”

It seems, nothing could ever make the spirit of Poland think differently. His beliefs were far too strong for that.

“Finland, no offence, but you just don’t _get it_. How different I have it, how all Eastern Europe has it” Feliks lectures him humiliatingly like a child. “Russia considers our people the same as his and lives to that belief he needs to unify us, against the _oh so evil_ West! Like he’s some god damn protector. You think I play the victim here, but it’s actually him who has a savior complex. And that’s one damn easy narrative, to be the hero instead of a villain”

Tino frowns, but can’t think of how to defend his stance. His words had been thrown back at him viciously.

“You’ve made a good deal there in your place, alright. Your land and people are considered separate enough for that. _For now_ ” tone of his voice changes to warning. “But I bet, sooner or later, the little duchy in the North too will just be too _nationalist_ for his tastes. Who knows what might happen if they’re allowed that much freedom? They might, god gracious, _‘disturb our peace!’_ ” Feliks’ imitates Ivan in mocking way. “Can’t wait to see what he’ll do when he thinks he has to save you from own nationality”

Tino has heard enough. Feliks can try to frighten him all he wants, because it will be nothing more than that. Just intimidation… Standing up, he marches out from the dining room. The argument is not worth it.

But his own convincing is not enough to stop the slight, but disturbing sense of dread creeping into him.

  
  


Ivan returns a few days later, confirming what they had suspected: Alexander II is dead, murdered by radicals. Eyes blank and heavy with sorrow, he tells them they all will attend the grand funeral that will be held soon.

  
  


In the evening, Tino doesn’t hesitate going to their lord’s premises. He knows Ivan will need his comfort tonight.

As expected, there’s a bottle of vodka on the table and two glasses next to it, filled with drinks. The Russian hardly looks up as he comes to sit on the chair on the other side. The sorrow weights him down. Tino feels it too. 

A silence lingers in the air, heavy with grief of both of them. The Grand Duchy’s mourning of their ruler they had hailed as the ‘liberator tsar’ was equal, even if not higher, to Russia’s.

“He… he didn’t deserve to die like that” Ivan’s voice is unusually frail and when Tino looks closer, he sees the tears on his cheeks. “It was awful, there… there was a bomb, his legs had been torn away, stomach ripped open, face _mutilated_ ” the voice cracks with the last words and Tino reaches his hand on the table, placing his own on top of it.

“He will be remembered with grace. His legacy will be a good one” The Finn tries to comfort him.

“Why did they do this? _How_ could they do this, for such a good man? Why spread such anarchy…” Ivan weeps uncontrollably now and he crouches low, hands on his face. He reminds more of a child than personification of an empire now, unable to understand the violence inflicted by politics. Tino rises up, reaching his side and embraces his head against his chest. Soon after, the tall arms rise around his middle, hugging him tightly. He strokes gently the ashen hair, tears damping his own eyes as well.

Russia’s one of the most promising tsars, beloved ruler for his people in the Grand Duchy, had met such a brutal, cruel end. The loss pains them both. It’s a blessing, that they can find comfort in each other’s arms. 

_Alexander III ascends on the throne after the murder of his father. Unlike his predecessor, he’s a conversative. Alexander II had been preparing a law that would limit the autocratic rule of the tsar before his death, but his son reverses it. Alexander III believes it was the liberal aspirations and the too loose hold on his subjects that had caused disunity and unrest in the empire that had eventually led to his father’s death. His reign begins with the goal of returning to strict discipline._

_As his grandfather Nikolai I, he aims to rule with the three core values Russia should hold: Orthodoxy, Autocracy and Nationality._

It’s hard not to be nervous. He always is, when the new tsar announces their affirmation of rule. He can never be sure how much of his wide autonomy they are willing to remain.

“He has no reason to change things here” Ivan whispers beside him, taking notice of his agitation. The words really don’t ease his mind. He knows very well the new ruler is nowhere near as liberal as his father.

Alexander III walks upon the podium and begins his speech.

_“--and I have resulted to follow the example of my dear father, who ceaselessly kept fostering the well being of autonomous Grand Duchy of Finland_ ”

Tino releases the breath he had held, relief filling him. The burden is off his shoulders now, his mind can be at peace again. Despite being a conservative, Alexander III had shown he’d keep his father’s benevolent regime in his land.

“I told you, didn’t I?” Ivan smiles at him, hand rising to stroke his back. The Russian looks like he’s genuinely glad on his behalf. It comforts him greatly. Ivan’s support is the one that means the most for him. 

Tino returns the smile gladly. It’s not only the relief of his people that he feels, it’s one personal as well; he doesn’t need to worry of a strain rising between him and Ivan. 

_But the politics of their countries shouldn’t matter between them in the first place, should they?_ Tino has told himself that for years, but somewhere, he had started to doubt if he fully even believed it…

_Under the rule of the new conservative tsar, Russia had regressed back to a ‘police state’ of control and oppression. Alexander III had formed a secret police department, Okhrana, to spy on his subjects and prevent revolutionary thoughts of spreading in the empire._

_As a ruler, Alexander III was ruthless with trying to ensure peace: with his reign, Russification of minorities grew stronger and Poland, Ukraine, Belarus and now the Baltics as well faced increasing oppression._

_Only Finland remains out of the tsar’s tightening grip. Alexander III appreciates the peace and loyalty of the Northern land, respects it’s constitution and self-governance._

**_1884_ **

  
  


The sway of the steamship is steady and pleasant as he watches the passing scenery of the archipelago. It’s picturesque in its beauty. 

The mellow summer day is quiet, the sea calm and air warm. Perfectly peaceful. Only a gentle breeze blows every now and then, catching on his hair comfortably. Closing his eyes, he enjoys the moment.

It’s quickly interrupted as a pair of hands grab his trousers, tugging at them impatiently.

“Tino! When will we be there?” a small boy asks him in Russian. Tino smiles down at him. It seems for the boy they’re already on a first name basis.

“Less than half an hour” he replies in the language.

The boy’s eyes lighten up in excitement and he runs back to his mother, starts speaking to her in a vivacious manner. The tsarina smiles and nods at him, showing her regards as Tino has got familiar with the children of the imperial family over the boat trip.

He’s delightful to have the chance. He’s always liked children: their energy and joy of simple things, their unlimited imagination… And imperial or not, all children held those features. Initially, at least. And If the world was a simpler place, no child would ever face famine, war or any misery… They’d never grow to be cruel and the world would be a kinder place.

But that is a fantasy that can never be reality, not anywhere in this world. There’s too much greed and pride, the nations always in their never ending battles for power and wealth, of ideologies and existence. It’s a reality he’s learned to accept.

But here, in the blissful halcyon moments like these, he nearly can pretend it’s a different world they live in.

“The children have already grown quite fond of you” Ivan appears beside him, twinkle in his eyes. He looks visibly winded down, his mind completely at peace for once. Like all his imperial responsibilities weight him less here. “You’ll have your hands full playing with them for these two weeks”

“I don’t mind” he replies as he looks at them fondly.

Right now, the imperial family looks so simple, wearing common clothes instead of their formal ones Tino is used to seeing them in, like any other family out there. Alexander speaks with his oldest son calmly, the boy listening to his father intently. The wife, Marina, is holding her youngest, a daughter of only two years old, in her arms while the elder sister is leaning on her, asleep. The two younger boys are further from them, in the middle of a play fight with wooden sticks. Perfect picture of a fortunate family, enjoying peace and happiness of their summer leisure.

It’s a shame they are burdened with the empire’s greatest responsibility. If serenity of his land can make them forget it for a while, Tino will gladly do his best to make their stay here as tranquil as he can.

They go ashore soon, arriving at a charming quiet harbor on one of the islands.

The children run to the dock the moment the ship reaches it, unable to contain their excitement, even when their father shouts after them. Tino holds hand over his mouth, covering his laugh. It’s a rare sight: an imperial family out of their palace, acting in such an ordinary way.

A group of locals are already present at the harbor, curious and excited expressions in their faces. Alexander III regards them with kind eyes, acknowledging them with a light nod.

They’re taken to a villa not far from the shore.

It’s a large, yet simple residence in a silent place with no neighboring houses nearby. It gives comfortable privacy, which Tino is sure is just what the imperial family needs. They can leave behind their stressful court life and politics for a while.

“The guesthouse has been prepared for you” a servant maid tells them, beckoning at a small house further from the main one. “But I’m sorry to tell you, but it’s a single bedroom residence. But I’m sure we can arrange one room free at the villa--”

“It’s not an issue” Ivan interrupts her quickly, smiling widely. “We are… _very good_ comrades. Sharing a room, even a bed, is not inconvenient at all. We’d hate to disturb Alexander and his family if one of us had to stay in the main house”

Tino blushes madly, eyes falling on his feet.

The maid looks at them without a word for a long moment. “Alright. If you find that… comfortable” she says, looking between the two of them puzzled. “I’ll bring another bedding and towel to your use then. If you’ll excuse me…”

When she has walked far enough to be out of earshot, Ivan laughs aloud. Tino glares at him, still embarrassed.

“You’ve certainly given her something to gossip about…”

“Servants should have their entertainment, right?”

“Right… But you’re not touching me at all anywhere outside that house, okay? I’d rather not have them see anything that will confirm their rumours…”

“What about inside?” Ivan asks him, eyes dark.

“As long as the curtains are closed… You can have me anyway you want” he whispers under his breath, smiling with intent. The violet eyes widen and like instinctively, a hand reaches towards him. He steps away, out of the Russian’s reach.

“Hey, I said none of that, didn’t I?” Tino smirks and grabbing his suitcase, starts heading towards the guest house. As he looks behind, Ivan is still standing in his place, staring after him. The look in his eyes tells the Finn he has earned a rough treatment tonight for his behavior.

After unpacking their luggage, they join the imperial family for dinner.

He’s nervous. It’s not an usual occasion that he dines on the same table with a tsar. He wishes to keep up the good appearance. Whatever he says and does, the tsar will surely remember whenever he handles something concerning the Grand Duchy.

“Calm down. You are already on his good side. His children adore you” Ivan tells him, smiling at his trepidity.

“I hope he shares their opinion of me” Tino tries to smile.

“How could he not? With that charm of yours…” Ivan steps close, arms going around his waist, breathing him in. The Finn leans against the taller man, letting the tenderness pacify him.

“I had heard of the beauty of the archipelago in the area, but what I saw today has surely exceeded all my expectations” Alexander says.

“Thank you. I always recommend the islands around _Turku_ for any visitors” he answers the compliment, cheeks flushed. 

“It’s such a calm ambiance in this land. People are friendly, peaceful… It gives me such sense of safety, which I find hard anywhere these days”

“I’m glad to say you have only a good reputation here and my people highly respect you, your grace. It is a secure place for your family to enjoy their vacations”

“I have no doubt of that” Alexander offers him a light smile. “I could have a summer residence here. A place where I can come to find peace of mind”

“We… we will be honored to build you one” Tino replies, pride filling him.

Their days pass like in a haze. There is no talk of politics, of the empire, nothing at all that could remind them of their duties. Tino feels like he’s entered another dimension, one where he is not a personification, but just a simple Finnish man, spending summer with his friends from Russia. And one of them being more than that… his secret, forbidden affair that has his heart racing. In the daylight, the two of them are just close comrades, sharing smiles no one thinks twice of. But in the night, they strip out of their facades like their clothes, showing their true colors.

It’s like here they can just forget for a while what they really are; immortal personifications, spirits of Russian empire and Grand Duchy of Finland, never equal. But here, they are… just Ivan and Tino.

And every night between them is intense, passionate. But different to what he’s used to. For a single time during their stay, Ivan has not used that rough force he never got fond of, but has grown familiar with. Every touch from him now is of pure affection, none of control.

In the last night of their blissful stay, Ivan takes him so gently and with such tenderness he nearly cries.

Afterwards, as they lay together in silence, Tino wishes they could just stay there forever, in this… alternate reality of simple happiness they’re pretending. Where their nations and their politics can’t ever get between them.

His eyes feel heavy, mind drowsy, but he doesn’t want to fall asleep just yet. It’d mean the sooner arrival of tomorrow. But just like all good things, these halcyon days too must come to an end.

His eyes fall close as the sleep claims him.

_Alexander III and his family had grown very fond of the Grand Duchy of Finland. The land’s peacefulness and humble folk charm them and since 1884, they spent time there nearly every summer for a decade._

**_1890_ **

_  
  
_

Eduard marches out, huffing like he’s feeling indignant. After him follows Ravis, looking equally frustrated. It’s Ivan’s premises they’re walking out from.

Confused, Tino glances after the two Baltics, wondering what has them so irritated.

“Hey! What happened there? If you want to tell me…” he catches up to them. Ravis sends a vicious glare at his way. The Livonian seemed to have grown to mostly dislike him now, influenced by Feliks and the fact he never approved of Tino's close relations with the Russian.

“It’s really none of your concern”

“Ravis” Eduard says warningly, stopping on his feet. The Livonian only keep walking ahead, towards the other wing of the upper floor. The Estonian looks after his younger brother in a frown.

“Sorry, that you had to hear that. Lately, he’s just been so miserable. I have too” Eduard turns his eyes on Tino. There's a distressed look in them. “We keep getting new... restrictions”

Tino nods in understanding. He’s been aware that Estonia and Livonia had started facing increasing control from the empire with the new tsar. Their governorates hardly had any self-governance left anymore.

“As Germany grows stronger, he tightens his grip on us...”

The unified new nation had quickly risen to one of the great powers in Europe. A fact that heavily concerned Russia. And with Baltics having their roots strongly tied with German influence, they stood as a threat, obviously.

“Hey, if you could try to convince him it’s the Estonian, not German, that’s rising-”

“He doesn’t like that either” Eduard bites his lip. “He wants only Russian in our administration and education now”

The Finn’s eyes widen, taken aback to how far their empire was taking the methods with unifying it’s subjects. With his privilege, he’s been ignorant of what others have been enduring.

“Eduard, I’m so sorry… I can try to talk to him-”

“ _No,_ Tino! You can’t get involved in this, you’ll only risk your own state if you do. Please, just don’t” his friend looks at him pleadingly. Tino wants to argue against it, but the look in the Estonian’s eyes stops him. It’s so unfair, him having all these privileges while the rest of them keep being tied tighter. 

“And... be careful. If Russia keeps going further this way, I’m not sure even if you can stay out of his reach” 

_Enjoying the wide autonomy, Finland had received many privileges no other lands in the empire had: it’s own postal service, its own currency and its own customs. The Grand Duchy was nearly functioning like a nation of his own._

_The land’s status was in contradiction with Alexander III’s endeavors of unifying the empire. Even if he was benevolent towards the land’s autonomy, he couldn’t accept all its privileges. With an objective of unifying the postal and monetary institutions with the empire, he declares a manifesto that will subject the Finnish postal office under Russia’s._ _  
_

It didn’t take long for Eduard’s warning words to come true.

“Alexander declared… _what?_ ” Tino wonders if he understood it right.

“What it meant is, the postal services of the Grand Duchy will simply be unified with Russia’s. To avoid unnecessary disruptions with mail and customs” explains Ivan, looking at him expressionlessly from behind his table. 

“But… why? I thought it was fine, working on its own?” he can’t understand the reasons behind the sudden change. Until now, the postal service in his country has been functioning just fine on its own, no tsar had questioned it before.

“I’m sorry, but there has been… dissatisfaction. Over the matter that Russian currency and post stamps can be used anywhere else in the empire but your land” his voice is turning more authoritative with every word. “That is just unacceptable. This unification should have been done long ago” 

For a moment, Tino can only stare in disbelief. But he’s not content to keep quiet yet and just accept this. He’s as stubborn as his folk after all.

“For you, that postal service might be nothing more than simple disturbance. But for me it’s… it’s a question of pride. It’s one of my country’s most important institutions!”

Ivan narrows his eyes. “You’re forgetting one important fact here, Finlandiya” the way the Russian uses his country name instead of his own, tells it’s the empire side of him speaking again. “You’re not a country of your own, but _my_ duchy. Under mine and the tsar’s command”

Tino’s eyes widen, taken aback with the harsh tone of Ivan’s voice he’s not used to. His defiance is turning to a feeling of hurt, offended. It must have shown in him as Ivan’s expression softens.

“It’s only a question of… practicality. It’s not meant as an offense to your autonomy”

“It’s hard not to take it as one…” Tino bites his lip, crossing his hands. He had feared this day would come. That something like this would come up, that would set a rift between them.

“Tino, it’s just about post offices…” Ivan looks at him pleadingly. “Why let such a single thing disturb you that much?”

Indignant, he looks back at the Russian. It’s so insulting how he regards something Tino takes pride of with so little understanding.

“If it’s such a simple thing, it shouldn’t bother you or the tsar in the first place to change it”

**_1891_ **

_Germany had held on to relatively good relations with Russia, with its diplomatic chancellor Otto von Bismarck. In 1888, there had risen a new emperor to rule Germans, Wilhelm II who had no intentions to keep up the alliance anymore._

_Concerned with Germany’s rising power, Russia seeks another alliance, with another strong country in Western Europe, that’s facing the same threat._

  
  


They’ve cleaned the house to shining state and been preparing dinner for the evening all day. Ivan had made it clear all of them would have to present their best tonight, as their quest would be a very important one. When Tino had seen the bottles of wines brought from the market, he had already guessed who it would be.

As they hear the outer door being opened, all of them hurry to the hallway and stand in a row, to properly welcome their quest as instructed. Ivan steps in and regards his subjects with a smile. After him, walks in the personification of France.

  
  


“It must be absolutely lovely, to have so many companions living with you” Francis says with a flattering smile.

If there is something the Frenchman has impressive skills on it’s socializing. There had hung an awkward, uncomfortable mood around them when they initially had sat down together along the table. There hardly ever were such important quests in the house after all. But Francis had quickly started chattering easily, asking both Ivan and his subjects questions until the conversation flew easily.

“I like to think we’re one big family” Ivan replies as he pours more wine for the Frenchman’s already emptied glass.

Feliks snorts loudly. The Russian sends an angry glare his way, but doesn’t say anything. If Francis took notice of it, he shows no reaction.

It’s all a very pretentious show really, both of them throwing empty compliments at each other with forced smiles. Even if it’s painfully obvious that ideologically, the two of them are now as far as they can get. The other of them holding on strongly to autocratic ideals while the other had grown increasingly fonder of democracy. But what they shared was the fear of their common enemy.

“It’s good to have a strong ally in these uncertain times” Francis continues. His smile falls slightly. “The new German Empire has grown strong quickly”

Ivan frowns and nods in agreement.

“Yes, I had not expected the unification to lead to… this. And so soon. That small boy I saw in the earlier part of this century, is already a full grown man. I don’t think I’ve ever seen one grow so fast”

Tino pays attention now, listening curiously. So far he’s only heard through the news of the united Germany, he has yet to see the personification himself. But based on the conversation, he was strong enough for both Russia and France to feel threatened.

“And raised by Gilbert… You can only imagine what kind of a nation he is, with Prussian upbringing. It’s concerning, _no?_ ”

“ _Da._ And furthermore, now that he’s allied with Italy and Austria-Hungary…”

“I agree, we need to keep our eyes on this _Triple Alliance..._ ”

The atmosphere has turned tense quickly. It always does, when the talk takes turn to such themes.

“But enough of politics! Let’s enjoy the evening with more pleasant topics!” Francis exclaims, the exaggerated smile appearing on him again.

For the rest of the evening, wars, alliances and ideologies are firmly kept out of the conversation.

It’s well past midnight when their quest finally seems to have got enough of wine and their company. Ivan seems the only one who’s still sharp enough to keep up with the Frenchman's constant talking, while the rest of them are swaying in their places, struggling to keep their eyes open. Or are already passed out.

“Finlandiya, would you kindly take mister France to the guestroom?”

Tino flinches, he too had been on the verge of falling asleep, leaning his jaw on his hand and eyes closed.

“Y-yes! Follow me...” he stands up quickly and nearly stumbles as he does.

“Careful there!” he had not even seen Francis arriving on his side, hand going around his hip. He finds the sudden proximity little too close to his liking. He takes a fair distance from him and walks ahead.

“ _Bonne nuit_ , everyone!” Francis calls out and follows after him.

They walk the corridor in uncomfortable silence. Tino feels too tired to force a small talk now.

“You’ve grown to a fine land, _Finlande_ ” unfortunately, Francis is not. “You must feel blessed, to enjoy such wide autonomy… no one else here has it, _no?_ ”

“Correct” Tino replies shortly. He’s not really keen on having this discussion.

“You’re fortunate to be in his favor… I hope Russia sees it fit to let you keep your state”

Now he truly feels uncomfortable. “I don’t see why he’d change it” the tone of his voice is a little too harsh, but he’s too tired to care.

“Let’s wish it remains that way” Francis smiles at him, but it only increases his discomfort. They’ve arrived now by the quest room. Tino is about to bid goodnight, but the French speaks up again. “I must say I was surprised to learn of the nature of your relationship”

Tino’s eyes widen, heat rushing on his cheeks. He’s kept a considerate distance from Ivan deliberately this evening. _How…?_

“Please, I am the nation of _amour_. I know when I see it” Francis smiles at his abashed expression. “It was subtle, but one can see it when they look closely… and with the way he spoke of and gazed at you, it dawned on me. But I had to test it, to confirm my suspicions… I merely grazed you and he looked like he could poison my wine! I was sure after that”

 _So that was why he had stepped in so close…_ The Finn looks away embarrassed. “I hope you won’t gossip around with this…”

“No, I wouldn’t degrade your ardor like that... the beauty of it is in secrecy” Francis winks. Tino is really not assured of his words. “What strange ways the _amour_ has… I had felt such a quilt when my actions had led to your separation from Sweden. But look what they’ve brought you too! Such growth and a handsome lover!”

“I’m not gonna thank you for that” the Finn looks away, would rather not remember all that what had led him to who he is today. There’s much pain there too.

“I wouldn’t expect you to… Well, I shall retire for the night. I wish all happiness and fortune for your future, Finlande. Be it with Russia or on your own”

_In the alliance, France and Russia aim for friendly relations between their nations and pledge to offer support to one another in face of threat from Triple Alliance. With it’s new ally, Russia receives foreign investments and modernizes it’s economy. It’s industry and infrastructure starts to develop rapidly, the nation growing stronger._

**_1894_ **

  
  


Ivan walks in with heavy steps, in his demeanor clear melancholy. As the violet eyes rise to meet his, Tino sees the distinct sorrow in them.

“The tsar has fallen very ill” the Russian tells him quietly.

Tino only looks at him blankly, not quite understanding the message yet. The news certainly was unexpected. “Is it… fatal?”

“There’s no cure… but his physicians have recommended for him to move somewhere warmer, with clean air. But I’m afraid even that can’t heal him” the Russian explains gravely. “The imperial family will move to Livadia, in Crimea. His last days shall be in comfort”

“I’m sorry, Ivan…” he doesn’t know what else to say. It had been only little over a decade since the tsar had risen to the throne. He’s not even old. It feels strange, to hear his reign coming to an end so soon.

“I had wished his reign had been longer… It’s been so peaceful”

It’s something Tino can agree with. Under Alexander III’s rule, Russia had not entered a single war. It’s been an era of stability, of great industrial growth. 

But it’s been an era of strong, ruthless control as well. Since his father’s death, the tsar had tracked down any opposition against him with his secret police, hanged and exiled thousands of people. As much as his reign had been of peace, it had been of oppression too. Which had in the end extended over Finland too.

But he doesn’t wish to remind Ivan of that right now. One’s mourning should be respected after all.

They’ve grown little distant from each other, as the disagreements between the empire and Grand Duchy kept increasing. It was impossible to keep that strain from coming between them, as both of them took their own side in the matter, always.

But tonight, Tino sets his mind to forget all of that and will offer his comfort if needed. And as he looks at the Russian, the wide sad eyes staring at him pleadingly, he knows it will be. Raising his hand forward towards Ivan, palm open, the Finn tells his lover he’s ready for their reconciliation. Smiling, Ivan reaches it. 

Perhaps things will get better now, with a new tsar. 

  
  
_Alexander III passes away from kidney disease at his summer residence in Livadia, in the arms of his beloved wife. In his place, on the throne rises his eldest son, Nikolai II. His formal crowning takes place a few years later._

**_1896_ **

  
  


The Cathedral is grand and beautiful, crowded with people. The choir’s deep voices echo above and all around the hollow church walls. It’s no wonder that people feel so sacred here. 

Especially when it’s the crowning of their gracious ruler. But after attending a coronation four times, the fifth does not really impress anymore. It’s the same church in Moscow, the same rituals, the same choir songs…

Ivan still looks as proud and enchanted as always. Even if he’s attended the event already for centuries. But being the very spirit of Russia, it’s expectable, after all.

Tino remembers that feeling, holding that same pride always when a new king had risen to throne in Sweden. Feeling in his veins how that ruler would do great things, bring glory for his nation. It feels so long ago, like from another lifetime. But it _was_ another life… He’s a different land now. And a person.

With his tsars, he never held them in that same regard. And with every new one, he had felt himself caring less. And now, as he watches Nikolai II on his throne, he feels nothing at all.

Or perhaps he does feel something. Pity. The crown of the tsar looks grand and heavy. Like the burden on the young man’s shoulders, of ruling the world’s largest empire.

“He will be a great tsar” Ivan’s eyes are still gleaming.

 _That’s what you say of every one of them._ Tino doesn’t voice his thoughts.

“I wish he will remember his family’s legacy” he says instead.

“In which means?”

“In means of respecting my country. Respect it’s laws, let my folk continue to live their lives like they have”

Ivan doesn’t answer anything on his contemplating. He only looks ahead, in thought. The Finn can make nothing out of his blank expression.

“Because if he will, he’ll have the most loyal and humble subjects from the people of Finland” he continues softly. He wants Ivan to know that he’ll still stand faithfully by his side. As his Grand Duchy, as his subject, as his lover. As long as the empire respects his autonomy.

The corners of Ivan’s lips rise slightly. But the Russian still says nothing.

What follows after the ceremony, are days filled with festivities and grand dancing balls.

Standing on the sidelines, Tino watches the couples sliding on the floor, to the sound of an orchestra. Men in their uniforms, women with their shining jewelry and finest dresses. It’s all very beautiful, as is the whole Kremlin Palace, but he just can’t catch the mood of celebrating. Fortunately, it’s only this one ball he had agreed to attend.

“Are you sure you wish to leave already tomorrow?” Ivan asks him. His mood seems exactly the opposite from Tino’s.

“Yes. It’s very grand and all, but you know me… Never really fancied these events”

“You and your preference of quietness and nature” the Russian rolls his eyes, but the tone of his voice is fond. “But it’s one trait you share with Nikolai. He appreciates that quiet life too. I think he will keep up his father’s tradition, of spending his summer leisure in the Grand Duchy”

“Well, I will be honored to host him”

“I’m glad. Since he was young, your land has been such a safe haven for him. And now that he’s a tsar, he’ll certainly need it”

The comment has him smiling. With the tsar being already familiar with Finland and the peacefulness of his people, he will have no reason to change anything.

“I really wish you’d stay here longer. There'll be such festivities for days in Moscow… And the day after tomorrow, Nikolai will share goblets filled with gifts on Khodynka field, for common folk. It will be magnificent event I’m sure, are you really sure-”

“Wait… they’ll be given for free, for anyone who attends?”

“Yes! He’s so generous, isn’t he?”

Frowning in doubt, Tino can’t share the Russian’s excitement. “There’ll be thousands of people who want those goblets. Aren’t you concerned it’ll be… too crowded?”

Ivan seems only confused from his worry. “Yes, there’ll be many people present, I’m sure. But everyone will have their share”

“Alright then… I guess there’ll be enough guards and workforce to take care of it…” Tino doesn’t feel exactly convinced. But he knows he has even less will to stay to see that. “I will pass that. Just don’t like such large crowds”

“I see” Ivan replies with a smile and steps closer suddenly, leaning down, lips near his ear. “I’ll let you leave tomorrow then. But only if you come to my chambers later tonight”

It’s incredible, how after even decades, Ivan can make him both shiver and all warm inside like this. 

“I’ll be there at midnight” Tino whispers, feeling breathless.

_Khodynka field in Moscow had been prepared for the distribution of gifts, food and drinks. But the rumour of the event had spread far and in the morning of the celebration day, in the square there had arrived tens thousands of people, far more than it had been estimated. Worried for not there being enough gifts, people start to crowd in towards the stalts. Soon the crowds turn suffocatingly tight and in panic, people try to flee the scene. The celebration had quickly turned to a great tragedy. Over 1300 lose their lives, stamped to death or suffocated._

The Russian who returns from Moscow, much earlier than he should have, looks nearly like another person from who he was in the coronation. There is nothing left from the joy, pride and ardor he had held there. His face is pale and there’s dark circles under his eyes, like he’s not slept for days.

He says nothing to his sisters as they come to greet him in the hallways, only looking blankly ahead, like haunted. Continuing his way upstairs without another word, Katyusha and Natasha look after him with concerned frowns.

The Belarusian turns her sharp eyes on Tino who nearly flinches from her cold glare.

“Go after him” she says and walk off then. The Finn stares after her in confusion. He hadn’t expect a request like that, least of all from Natasha

“We think... you might be the only one that can get through to him now” Katyusha explains, offering a kind smile. “Will you comfort him?”

Tino nods, trying to return that smile. It’s flattering that Ivan’s sisters find him that important for their brother. That they think it’s him who should reach the Russian now, instead of themselves. When did he turn to such an invaluable pillar in Ivan’s life?

The thought has him feeling slightly distressed too.

  
  


For once, he knocks the door before going in. Ivan sits on his chair, behind his work table, staring ahead numbly. He hardly looks up as Tino walks in. 

When reaching him, the Finn crouches down on his knees, taking the Russian’s hands in his. They feel cold.

“Ivan, talk to me” he says quietly, gently rubbing the palms. 

At first, he only receives silence and Ivan’s eyes don’t meet his. But after a while, they turn up to look at him at last. He’s taken aback as he sees the unshed tears in the glazed eyes.

“It… it was terrible” Ivan’s voice breaks as he speaks and Tino sees again the vulnerable, lonely man behind the empire. “There were so many people, at the square... too many” the tears force their way out of the violet eyes, landing on Tino’s hands. “It… got out of control. They all rushed in get their goblets and when realizing the danger, they all tried to flee. So many got stuck in the middle, or fell… and they couldn’t get out”

He is crying uncontrollably now, like a child unable to hold in his emotions. But who wouldn’t, after witnessing something so terrible… Tino feels his own heart aching too. No personification should see such a tragedy falling on their people.

“So many people dead… For, for… _a cup with few treats!_ ”

“I’m so sorry” he cradles the man’s face between his hands.

“I-I should have foreseen this… This could’ve been avoided, I should have-”

Ivan’s breaths come out in short gasps as he cries, hands shaking.

“Look at me” Tino says, trying to reach his gaze. The frantic eyes turn on him again. And what a pitiful sight they are. Filled with quilt and desperation, heavy with sorrow. 

“It was not your fault. No one could have known how perilous it would turn out” his voice doesn’t waver. He has to be the strong one now.

The Russian’s breathing slowly calms down, his crying ceasing.

“It’s an ill omen. For Nikolai’s reign. For all Russia” Ivan says. He’s calmer now, but still heavy with distress. “People won’t hold love for him after this”

“No. It was a tragedy, brought by unfortunate circumstances” Tino assures him. “He’ll have the chance to prove himself for your… our people, in time”

_On the night of Khodynka Tragedy, the French Ambassador’s gala had been planned. Nikolai II did not want to attend it, but mourn and pray for the lives lost that day. His uncles advised against it as they thought it was too much of a risk to offend France. Following the advice, the tsar attends the party._

_The mourning people see his act as cold and uncaring and despise him for it. Already in the beginning of his reign, the tsar earns the name of “Nikolai the Bloody”._

**_1898_ **

  
  


As always, with the new tsar comes the new policies. But he’s not really that concerned. Nikolai II has already confirmed to rule his land according to its constitution, through the Senate. Just as before.

The news of the new general governor being appointed didn't startle him either. There’s been dozens of them through the years and lately they hardly had done anything more than representative work in the Grand Duchy.

But as per tradition, he’ll attend the inaugural in Helsinki and hear the governor’s speech for the Senate. Just for the formalities.

But something was… off. Ivan had told him very little of this new governor, of the man named _Bobrikov_ , and had just been acting so... tense around him, has been already for a while. And when the Russian came to escort him to the railway station, he had held a strange, nearly rueful look in his eyes as they stood on the platform. 

“Tino, I… I hope you know I only want what’s best for you. Best for your… _our_ future” he had nearly sounded like he was in pain.

Tino had tilted his head, only confused with the odd behavior from the other.

“That’s something you don’t have to worry over... I think I know that myself” he had smiled warmly and then lifted his arms around the taller man. Whatever it was that distressed the Russian, he doesn’t want it coming between them. Ivan had returned the embrace, held him tightly for a long while before letting go.

_It was probably nothing. He’s just under emotional stress. As he often is these days._ Tino thinks to himself as he watches the passing scenery from the window. The train rattles steadily, easing his mind. It’s better not to think too much over a few simple words.

“Mister Bobrikov, the representation of Grand Duchy of Finland” one of the officials introduces him to the governor.

“It’s an honor to meet you, sir” Tino greets in Russian, bowing slightly. The old, bald man with a beard looks at him in a judgmental manner, seems to hold no enthusiasm at all from meeting the personification of the land he will govern.

“How often do you speak Russian?” he asks Tino instead of greeting him, voice even and serious. “Your accent is… strong. For being part of the empire close to a century already”

The Finn frowns slightly at the man’s gruff behavior.

“I speak it when it’s required, sir” 

“I see… clearly it’s not often enough” the governor replies, looking him up and down critically. Tino knows already he will dislike this man.

But it’s after his speech when that dislike already turns to loathing.

He takes the train back to St. Petersburg the next morning. Ivan must have an explanation for this, if he’s aware at all. _It just can’t be true…_

“-and you know what he called it?! ‘A mere borderland’!” Tino doesn’t hold back with his indignation. Bobrikov’s speech had held such a sinister message within it. It surely can’t be in line what the tsar had intended. What Ivan has considered for him. “He spoke like he was going to subjugate us completely under Russian authorities. He outright denied my autonomy!” 

Ivan looks at him expressionlessly behind his table. _Why is he so quiet?_

“We must let tsar know of this! He surely can’t be agreeing-”

“It’s already been approved by Nikolai” Ivan speaks up at last.

Tino’s eyes widen, distraught. This has to be a misunderstanding.

“What… what do you mean?”

“Before the inaugural, Bobrikov had presented a program that would be carried out in the Grand Duchy. The tsar has signed it”

Tino can only stare in disbelief. _This… has been planned already?_ “What… program?”

Ivan reaches for his drawer, taking a document from there. His face remains blank as he hands it over for the Finn.

He reads through it roughly. The document lists various implementations to be executed: his army's unification with the Russian one, restriction of power of the Senate, adopting Russian language in education and administration… It’s a program to unite Finland tighter to the empire. To _abolish_ his autonomy. 

Tino feels his hands starting to tremble, of desperation. And of anger.

“This… this is unacceptable! My people will never agree to it-Ivan, talk to the tsar. I know you can make him see reason with this. And I know you don’t support-” he says, but as his eyes meet Ivan’s, words get stuck in his throat. The Russian is still looking at him blankly, only a slight melancholy in his eyes. But he looks like he has no intention to agree with Tino.

 _“Ivan?_ ” he asks in a small, fearful voice.

His lover keeps looking at him in silence. Like he’s deliberating how to… reveal a truth that Tino is not ready to face.

“I’m afraid this is… necessary policy. To strengthen the empire”

The Finn’s mouth falls open, unable to believe that Ivan could just…

“ _No, no_ \--you know that’s not true! We’ve been faithful all this time. Given our loyalty, given our support when the tsar asked for it. Not rebelled, ever. In exchange for… national sovereignty” as he says the last words, Ivan’s expression turns harsher.

“You’ve never been your own nation, it’s a fact you keep forgetting lately”

“I know that! But Alexander I, he promised us a land in the empire with it’s own-”

“It was just a phrase, with no political bounding to it. And the Russia he ruled was weaker than the one now. It… _I_ didn’t have the power back then, to manage it all by myself” Ivan’s every word is with pressure. Tino can’t understand- _why_ would he suddenly change his stance so radically? Ivan has always regarded his autonomy kindly and now he... A horrid realization dawns on the Finn.

“You… you _never_ intended to let me keep it, did you?” he feels his voice breaking.

“Your autonomy was a means to an end... for you to grow away from your past. Away from Sweden. And how finely you grew... ” Ivan’s voice is turning softer now. “It was such a joy to see. See you gain all that confidence your previous kingdom had always held you back from. Learning your place in this world, under my protection. But before I noticed, you had grown too much. And I realized that eventually, you’d grow away from me ”

Tino finds it hard to breathe. All these years, he’s thought that… He was sure that Ivan would always support his position. He’s done so well there. That maybe the Russian would even let him… But all that benevolence, encouragement for his nationalism, it had all been a _lie_. 

“So when Nikolai told me of his plans for the Grand Duchy, I didn’t object. I knew it was time to let your sovereignty end. It was the only way I could keep protecting you”

“From… from _what?!_ ” he shouts, his anger igniting him “From Sweden, who’s been nothing but neutral for decades? From other Western Europe? They never cared for me in the first place… There is not any threat between us, it’s… _you’re_ delusional!” he’s surprised how harsh his words come out. As is Ivan, his violet eyes widening in hurt before that oppressive gaze returns to them.

“There is one. It’s the one within you”

Tino can’t believe it. Ivan is somehow convinced he needs... protecting from his own land, from aspirations of his people. From himself. (Feliks’ taunting words vaguely echo in his head; _'-it’s actually him who has the savior complex-’, ‘-he’ll strip you out all of that privilege when he gets the chance-’_ )

His anger, mixed with heavy bitterness of betrayal, forces the unshed tears out of his eyes. Holding a hand over his mouth, he tries to control his sobs, tries to breathe as the shock of it all shakes him to his core. 

Ivan has risen from his seat, walking around the table, towards him.

“Tino, please understand. It’s what must be done. Don’t let this come between us-” with a tender expression, he reaches his hand towards the Finn. The shorter man steps away.

“You don’t have the right to call me _like that_ anymore…” he hisses, defiance rising inside him “I don’t want your affections, I don’t want you to touch me... I don’t want you _anywhere near me_ anymore”

The violet eyes widen again, in them hurt, distress, sadness… But right now, Tino can feel nothing from them. The only thing he’s able to feel is the burning betrayal, as Ivan had let his tsar sign away his autonomy without a second thought.

He turns away, reaching towards the door. But when he’s there, he looks back, praying in his mind that the Russian is in regret, will admit to his fault and ask for Tino’s forgiveness. But Ivan only stares at him in silence, his eyes pleading. Wanting just what Tino does, but the opposite: that it’s him who gives in. That he’ll swallow his pride and silences his people’s outcries in him. Chooses Russia over them.

No spirit of a nation could ever do that. He opens the door and walks away without looking back.

**_1899_ **

_In February, Nikolai II released a manifesto that will considerably limit the Grand Duchy’s self-governing state. In Finland, the act is seen as a coup and an override of the land’s constitution that will abolish the autonomy. It causes a national outrage all around the country._

_With the manifesto, begins the period of Russification in Finland._

The mood of the whole city seems sorrowful, bitter, _hopeless._ The windows of the shops are covered with dark gauzes and women are dressed in black like they’re attending a funeral. A reflection of their mourning for their country.

Tino can vividly feel all that despair, feels it weighing him down as he walks among his people on the streets, towards the Senate square. 

Hundreds of people have already gathered there, scattered along the square. In the middle of them, stands the grand statue that had been erected there five years ago. A statue of the tsar they had held so dear, hailed as liberator and protector of the land’s constitution. Alexander II.

The plinth of it has been covered in flowers and garlands. They’re there not only to serve as honor to his memory, they’re there as a sign of protest as well. Tino crouches down, placing his own bouquet of white and blue roses there.

As he looks upon the stony face of Alexander II, he’s reminded of those better times. How his land has flourished under the man’s liberal rule as there had been mutual respect between the tsar and the Grand Duchy.

When he still had that hope for a brighter future. When he had believed Ivan wouldn’t ever let him down like this, would even grow to a better person… Tino clenches his hands, bitterly tries not think of what-could-have-beens. 

He wishes Snellman was here. The writer’s words always gave him courage. But his dear friend, one of the countrymen that had risen his pride so much, is not in this world anymore. Despite how prominent it had been, a human’s life is always short.

The square quiets down, until a complete silence hangs over the hundreds gathered there. Then, at the stairs under the Cathedral, a student choir begins singing.

_"Oi maamme Suomi, synnyinmaa…"_

Tino recognizes the familiar tune right away. As all his people around him. Slowly, they join the choir, group and by group, until the whole square echoes from their proud voices. Tino sings along, from the bottom of his heart and he feels a new sense of hope rising in him, overcoming his despair. 

And he remembers then, the simple but so the strong words of encouragement, that Snellman had once told him; _"Swedes we are no longer,_ _Russians we cannot become, s_ _o let us be Finns"_

This is not the end. Their fight has only begun.


	7. Chapter 7

There’s a rift between them again. But this time, Tino thinks it’s far too wide to be fixed.

Ocean of politics and distrust lies between them now. As his people feel betrayed by the tsar, he feels the same of Ivan. Except it’s worse. It’s personal as well. The man he had learned to trust, grown to care for, had _devoted_ himself to, had let him down so deeply he feels like they can never go back to what they had.

He shuns away from the Russian’s longing looks that are begging him to come back. But a small, treacherous part of him wants to give in, throw himself in comfort of those familiar arms and let that passion haze his mind. But that passion had hazed him for decades, making him look the other way as Ivan had repressed his other subjects, gradually with ever stronger pressure until they had no strength to resist anymore. And he had believed it when Ivan had whispered those sweet manipulations in his ear, telling him all that… _oppression_ had been necessary.

And he wonders if Ivan’s affections for him were ever really genuine at all. Was it all a part of a pretend, to gain his trust and loyalty?

And Tino had thought that oppression could never reach him. Blindly believed he was so different, so special and valued, that Finland would always be safe from that.

_What naïve foolishness._

He was given his autonomy only so he’d be easier to bend later. Keep him and his people content enough so they’d quietly assimilated.

But that’s where Ivan had mistaken them greatly. Instead of growing into an integral part of the empire, Finland had grown apart, into a place of his own. The autonomy, it had awaken him in a way Tino had never felt like before. To the irreplaceable connection with his people, the infinite pride for his land.

And now that he has the taste of it, Tino knows he will never give up fighting for it.

_Finns, shocked and distraught after the tsar’s February Manifesto, start immediately to resist. University students decide to collect a petition for Nikolai II to reconsider the Manifesto and in eleven days, they ski from village to village, all around the country to collect signatures. More than half a million, one fifth of the country’s population signs it._

_A delegation of 500 men travel to St. Petersburg to deliver it for Nikolai II._

“He refused to even see them” Tino says numbly, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and eyes on the ground.

“I’m sorry to hear that” Eduard replies, gazing at his friend glumly.

The others too had soon learned that he had been subjugated to the same fate as them. They had looked at him with pitying eyes as Ivan had read the news out loud for everyone to hear. It was only Feliks who had no sympathy in his eyes - he had held a small, scornful smile on his lips instead, with an expression of _‘I told you so’._

“And you know what my precious new governor had told the foreign press? That ‘all sensible people in Finland are content with that manifesto!’”

“They won’t believe it in Europe when they learn of that petition” the Estonian tries to encourage him. “If you get international support, it’ll give pressure on the tsar to reconsider. You have not lost yet…”

“The West has never really cared for us. I don’t see why they would now” it’s hard to keep out the despair he feels. As all his people feel that now.

“Your reputation is better known than you think. You’re already renowned as the small, but stubborn country struggling to keep it’s rights”

Astonished, Tino raises his head to look at Eduard. “ _How_ do you…? 

He’s very aware they have no access to foreign press now.

“I met one of my people in the city while doing groceries. He had smuggled a German magazine” the Estonian smiles proudly.

“Eduard!” the Finn exclaims quietly. He knows the risk his friend had taken doing that.

“I’m tired of knowing of the world what only Russia wants us to know of”

Tino feels his chest tightening in pity. Until recently, he’s had the privilege of a fairly liberal press and could freely read whatever he wished whenever he went to his lands. The others had lost that chance one by one long ago.

“I… I want to apologize. I think I’ve been... blind to what you all have endured” he says, eyes falling to his feet in shame. He had been in such a good place himself, so deep in his affection for Ivan, that he had only sympathetically looked from the sidelines as they kept losing more. And he had never properly stood up for them. He really doesn’t deserve Eduard’s or anyone’s sympathies. 

“Don’t. You’ve only done what you thought best for your people. Like we all do” his friend’s warm smile is a relief. “And… considering there was your own feelings on the scale, I understand it was hard to see past that”

Closing his eyes, Tino sighs deeply. He had overlooked _so many things_ regarding Ivan. It feels like it’s only now that he sees it all with clarity. There had been so many moments that had not been quite right and too many times that he had disregarded his own intuition.

“I really don’t deserve you Eduard…”

“Don’t say that” the Estonian rests his hand on his shoulder, squeezing comfortingly. “I’ll always watch out for you. Like I always have”

The words already have him feeling better. He’s fortunate to have such an unwavering friendship in this ever changing, chaotic world.

“Don’t lose hope. Keep fighting. It gives me hope too”

Eduard’s encouragement fills him with determination. “I will fight for both of us”

“That’s the Tino I know” Eduard’s smile grows wider before his expression turns staid. “But don’t get too reckless. Because with you, it’s not just about subjugating your land, it’s… _personal_ too. And I fear what he might do with his own emotions involved in this”

_The Great Petition had raised sympathies all around Europe towards Finns’ effort to keep their laws and privileges. Encouraged by the attention, comes an idea of collection for another address: a Cultural Petition. Over 1000 cultural influencers from 12 countries sign the ‘Pro Finlandia’- petition that pleads for the tsar to maintain the Grand Duchy’s autonomy._

Shifting anxiously from one foot to another, waiting by the corner of the street, he watches the passing people, trying to spot his contact among them. It’s a risk itself to be here. But one he’s willing to take.

At last, there’s the young man he had gotten acquainted with a few months ago, heading towards his way. He regards Tino with a small nod, nudging his head to the left and turns to walk that way. Tino follows after him.

They come inside a small paint shop by a quieter street.

“Did you… get through to anyone?” he asks warily, hardly daring to hope if his plan had been fruitful.

The man smiles triumphantly. “I got six of them”

_France, Netherlands, Italy, Denmark, Norway, Sweden…_ six of his kind had answered to his plea. New courage fills him as he looks through the notes where the personifications have formally expressed their support for him, signed with both their country titles and personal names. He might be alone in his struggle, but Ivan will know that there’s many who don't approve what’s been done for Finland. 

“Do you think this… will actually help?”

“I don’t know. But it will show that Europe stands with us” Tino replies, already feeling braver. “Thank you, for taking all that effort for doing this… I could never had got those letters through by myself”

“Anything for the fatherland” the man smiles widely. “Before you leave, could you come upstairs? There’s a friend of mine I want you to meet”

They come inside a wide, bright room. It’s filled with paintings and drafts. In the middle, there’s a man in his 30s, immersed in his work.

“Eetu… _Eetu!_ ” the man calls his friend who seems to not even have noticed their arrival.

“You’re back already? Did you meet the fella you were supposed to-” as he turns around and sees Tino, a distinct distress rises in his eyes, the paintbrush nearly falling off his hand.

“ _Fuck’s sake, Ben!_ You know you can’t just bring anyone here!” he hastily looks around himself, like he’s afraid Tino will look at some certain painting that shouldn’t be looked at.

“Calm down… I can say with certainty you won’t have to worry about this one” reaching his friend’s side, Benjamin touches his shoulder reassuringly. He explains something quietly, Tino can’t really hear it.

The painter’s eyes widen with astonishment and swiftly turns to look at the Finn standing on the other side. There’s a deep, adoring gaze in them. One that Tino has learned to recognize over the years. That same look an artist always holds when they learn of his identity.

“It’s… the greatest honor to meet you”

“The honor is mine” Tino smiles warmly.

The painter only keeps staring at him, eyes shining in wonder. Benjamin grins at his friend’s dreamy gaze. “I think this is the closest thing to in love he’s ever felt”

That snaps him out of his haze and he turns to glare at the other man. “Seriously? Embarrassing me in front of the most prominent symbols of our country?”

His comrade only sniggers and Tino chuckles slightly too.

“Relax, he’s a laid back fella… No need for any formal pretense around him” Benjamin smiles widely. “But now that he’s here, you’ll have to show him _that_ ” he points at one painting, covered with cloth. Tino feels his curiosity awakening right away.

“I’d love to see that work of yours” he says.

The painter’s eyes lighten up with pride.

“It was my project this spring at the academy, in Berlin” he explains as he walks towards it. “When I learned of the manifesto, I felt such… rage. And then I had this image in my head… and I knew I had to paint it”

He grabs the cloth and with one swift yank, uncovers the painting.

Breath catching, waves of different emotions ascend on him as he looks at it. There’s a young fair woman, in a white linen dress and blue scarf, flowing in the wind with her long, blond hair. Standing on a rock by the sea as a storm rages around her, firmly holding onto a large book with “ _Lex_ ” written on the cover of it. And above her, flies a grand, ominous eagle with two heads, it’s long claws trying to steal the book away from her.

For a long while, Tino can only stare, speechless by it’s harsh beauty. The picture has touched something _deep_ inside him.

“I named it _An Attack._ So… what do you think?” the painter asks him quietly.

“It’s… incredible” he replies, breathless. “I… it’s like I can feel the spirit of it to my soul” it’s hard to find proper words to express all the emotions surging in him.

Benjamin whistles out. “I think you’ve made your name into history books, Eetu”

Tino ends up spending the whole afternoon and evening with the two men. They offer him dinner with wine, one bottle that becomes two with easy chatter that turns deeper in the late hours. The company of his devoted countrymen relieves his mind that’s been so agitated lately. And they give him courage, the strength he’ll need when he has to return to St. Petersburg in the morning. Where he has to face Ivan again.

He drops the six notes on the desk, mouth tightened into a thin line. His gaze doesn’t waver as he stares at the Russian sitting behind the table.

“What are these?” Ivan eyes the letters with disdain.

“Petitions. From representatives of six countries in Europe. For you and the tsar to revise the Manifesto that’s _stealing_ my constitution”

Picking them up, he looks through the notes like he’s examining their validity.

“These have not been sent through… proper postal services, I assume? I see no imperial stamps in them”

“No, but they’ve reached their rightful recipients and have been formally signed with-”

“Then this is nothing but illegal mail” Ivan says as he rips apart the six letters without a second of consideration.

Tino can only look as his plan and work he had spent weeks with organizing is shred like it meant nothing. And it dawns on him that Ivan does not care if all Europe condemns him. He won’t bend his will.

“This matter is finished. And from now on, you are not permitted to visit your land without supervision”

An anxiety rises in him, choking his courage and shriveling his spirit. He doesn’t feel brave at all anymore.

“Why are you doing this?” he asks in a small, hopeless voice.

“You may not see it now… but it’s for your own good” Ivan’s words are softer now, trying to lull him into a false sense of security. But they only awaken his defiance.

“You don’t get to decide that” he replies sharply.

“As long as you remain incapable to think for the good of the empire, I’m afraid I must” with his last words, there’s nothing soft remaining in his voice anymore.

_An international delegate from 6 countries traveled to St. Petersburg to deliver the Pro Finlandia-address. Just as with the previous petition, the tsar does not receive this delegate either._

When Tino reaches his room, he slumps down on his bed, burying his face in the pillow. Things had only got from bad to worse. His connections to his country have been cut off and his visits there happen now only with Russian escorts who won’t let him out of their sight. Ivan keeps his eyes on his every move, ensuring anything he does slips his sight.

It’s hopeless. But he can’t give in.

Tino hops up, walking in front of the window. He crouches down on the wooden floor, feeling the boards until his hand lands on the one that’s very slightly uneven. Carefully, he takes it out of its place. Smiling, he reaches for the letter hidden in the crack. It was the only thing he has managed to keep hidden from the Russian’s eyes.

Benjamin had given it within the formal notes when they met in Helsinki. _(“One of them wanted you to receive his personal reply. He was very intent that you’ll get it safely”_ )

He’s read through it already, several times, but the words there always give him courage. And right now, it’s certainly what he needs.

_Dear Tino,_

_It pained me deeply when I learned of Russia’s changed policy regarding your autonomy. It’s an unforgivable betrayal to you and your people, of what you were promised in 1809._

_I wish I could support you with far more than a mere signature. If I could, I’d travel all the way to St. Petersburg myself to speak on your behalf. But as the representation of my nation, my king requires my neutrality. Despite that, I want you to know that in spirit, the whole Sweden supports your struggle. You’re in my mind and in my prayers, daily. Even if it may not seem like it, you are not alone._

_Yours, Berwald_

**_1900_ **

_With the turn of the century, Russification in Finland intensifies. The press is subjected under tighter censorship and several newspapers and magazines get discontinued, Finnish post stamps are abolished, the army incorporated into Russian units and with the Language Manifesto, Russian is elevated into the language of administration of the country._

It’s hard trying to keep his head up as his land keeps losing more of its sovereignty. The house, that’s been his second home for nearly a century now, feels only suffocating now.

It’s horrible that others have endured this for years. For him it has only started and it’s unbearable already: the disconnection from his people, the choking censorship, his pride being ripped away bit by bit… He can’t even imagine how worse they feel it all.

When Ivan tells them he won’t accept to hear any other language than Russian in the house from now on, Tino feels his despair growing overwhelming.

“Today, we shall learn of the man that established our empire we know today… The man I’m named after and the first tsar of Russia”

Their lord had brought up a new pastime, a requirement, for all of them to attend. Lessons of culture and language.

They’re nothing like the evenings of poems and stories Tino had once shared with him, long ago. These evenings are only about strict discipline and unquestioned praise of Russia and it’s tsars. It’s such a painful contrast to those gentle moments they had once.

They’re seated in small desks in two even rows, like students in a classroom as Ivan stands at the front, looking at each of them in turn as he explains. When his eyes meet Tino’s, the Finn finds himself unable to hold the gaze, eyes falling on his desk.

The atmosphere over them is anxious and comfortless, the subjugated lands keeping their heads low under the pressure of their empire.

“It was under his rule when our nation became to grow-”

“ _Gówniany nauczyciel_ ” he hears the quiet, but clear whisper from the seat next to him.

 _Feliks, you... you idiot!_ He curses mentally, praying that Ivan didn’t hear it.

Of course he did. The Russian’s violet eyes turn on the Pole instantly, the fury in them present already.

“What was that, _Polsa?_ ”

“I didn’t say anything” Feliks shrugs.

 _Are you begging for punishment?_ Tino frowns anxiously. This might turn really bad really quickly…

“Is that so? Because I’m quite sure I heard a whisper of Polish back there”

“You’re like, hearing things of your own. I wouldn’t be surprised, with all that paranoid--”

Ivan crosses the room so quickly Feliks doesn’t get to finish his sentence. Taking a firm hold of the front of his shirt, the Russian hoists him up with force, staring down at him in wrath.

“There will be no language spoken but Russian under this roof, do you understand?”

“ _Spierdalaj_ ”

Seconds after, Ivan yanks hard and as Feliks loses his balance, he drags him away across the room. The Pole writhes madly in his grasp, but it’s no use against the Russian’s iron strong grip. It doesn’t take long before they’re out of the room.

Toris has risen from his seat, moving after them, but Natasha is quicker and steps in front, holding him back. “No. He’ll only hurt you too”

“I can’t leave Feliks alone with him!” he pushes against the hold, but the Belarusian is immovable.

“There’s nothing you can do” Katyusha too is now standing in front of the Baltic. She knows none of them can stop her brother now, not when he’s like this.

A desperate silence settles over them, a terrified anticipation of what will fall on their comrade as Ivan will release his rage on him.

Tino still stares at his desk, frozen in fright. Ivan had looked so angry, nearly unrecognizable in his wrath. And like he wouldn’t hesitate to discipline his subject with… force. And he remembers then, the conversation he had with Toris, of the cellar floor and what happened down there... A horrid realization dawns on him it might be exactly where Ivan is taking Feliks now.

For years, he has only stood by as Ivan’s oppression on them grew heavier.

The Finn closes his eyes, stifling his fear. And then, rises from his seat and runs out of the room so quickly those around him hardly have time to react.

“Tino! _Don’t-!_ ” he hears Eduard shouting after him. He doesn’t stop.

In a storage room near the kitchen, there’s a floor door left open. Tino breathes in deeply, gathering his courage and steps on the stairs.

The basement is dark and bleak, rock walls surrounding it. It’s empty, but behind the stairs, there’s a corridor. Suddenly, a high-pitched scream echoes from there, confirming it’s where they’ve gone. Tino swallows the lump of fear in his throat, clenching his hands and walks in.

He arrives in a smaller room, only lightly lit by a single candle. Ivan stands there, his back towards him, holding a whip in his hand. In front of the Russian, there’s Feliks, on his knees, shirt torn open. Even with the dim light Tino can see the red scars on his back.

Ivan seems to have not noticed his presence at all. He’s rising the whip in his hand, readying himself for another strike.

_“STOP!”_

Tino’s sudden shout halts him. Slowly, he turns to look behind. His face is blank, but the violet eyes are storming.

“This does not concern you, Finlandiya”

“Don’t do this, Ivan” his voice comes out meek and fragile.

“I can’t allow such disrespect in my house. Poland must learn his lesson”

Stifling all his senses telling him to get away from there, Tino walks further inside the room. His heart drummers loudly in his chest when he steps in front of Ivan, standing between the Russian and the Pole.

“Step away” the command is spoken firmly and harshly, with warning, but he doesn’t move.

“No” he holds the taller man’s gaze resolutely even if every cell in him feels afraid.

“Don’t make me _force_ you”

“I won’t let you hurt him further. You… you’ll have to hurt me too then”

Ivan’s eyes widen, distraught and conflicted. Tino keeps holding his gaze, showing he meant his words. He refuses to just stand by anymore. The Russian rises the whip in his hand and dread fills him. Closing his eyes, he braces himself for the pain.

It never comes. He only hears a thump as the whip is thrown on the floor. And heavy steps of Ivan walking away.

Tino opens his eyes, breathing out in relief. It had worked. Ivan could not raise his hand to hurt him after all.

“I’m not gonna thank you for that” he hears the quiet, ragged voice behind him.

“Of course not” he says as he crouches down, taking Feliks’ other arm around his neck. He doesn’t miss the small smile as he helps him up.

**_1902_ **

_As Russification intensifies, the resistance towards it grows stronger as well. Nikolai II had confirmed the law of mandatory military service of Finns, in the Russian imperial army meaning all conscripts are obligated to participate in the empire’s conflicts, ones not involving Finland too. The property of Finnish army is ceded without compensation. The manifesto caused outrage and with the first levy, men all around the country defy it with a strike._

“Your people are refusing to serve the empire” Ivan states plainly.

“What do you mean?” he really has no access to learn of what happens in his country anymore. Or, has, but only through the censored, controlled sources from Russia. He doesn’t bother learning from them at all.

“They’re not answering to their call of military duty”

“So are they… striking?” it’s hard to keep himself from smiling. He’s _so proud_ of his boys.

Ivan's face twitches slightly, but it quickly turns back to the façade of calmness and confidence. But Tino has learned to see through it. It’s obvious he’s very indignant about it.

“It seems so… You understand such behavior can’t be accepted”

“The law they’re striking against is the one that’s unacceptable” Tino replies quickly. He finds speaking up against Ivan becoming easier every time he does.

The Russian narrows his eyes, but keeps his mask of calmness. “The law is enforced by the tsar. They’re as much as his servants as all his subjects”

“A tsar that does not respect my constitution” he won’t give in with this.

As neither will Ivan. A silence descends over them as they stare at each other. The will of both of them is immovable.

“You have two choices here, Finlandiya” the Russian is the first one to break it. “You will appeal to your people as their representation, that they stop this mutiny. Show them your support for the empire. Or my Cossacks will be present the next time they gather for demonstration”

Tino’s eyes widen with the threat. He knows what Russian Cossacks means. Violence. He’s forced to choose from two horrible options: publicly pretend to his people that he supports Nikolai II, their suppressor or let them face the wrath of the armed horsemen.

“That’s… that’s a choice I can’t answer!”

“You’ll have to”

The Finn’s eyes fall on the floor in distress. If he agrees he can avoid a possible bloodbath. But it would look like he, their very representation and symbol of their strength, was letting them down. Betraying them.

“I refuse to make a choice like that”

The look of Ivan hardens. “Then it’s the hundred Cossacks that will be there”

“You’ll only inflame their resistance”

“For now, perhaps. But they’ll learn, eventually”

“And how much blood will you spill for that?” Tino feels his voice shake with his anger.

“As much as necessary” Ivan has no sympathy in his words.

_Multiple people gather to the demonstration at the Senate Square. A Russian governor calls up gendarme to dissolve the riot, but as people refuse to leave, 100 Cossacks are called there which finally scatters the crowd. Despite that, the governor still orders them to attack and the Cossack charge upon the unarmed people, hitting them with their weapons and letting their horses stomp them. Enraged people throw rocks at them._

_The event does not end with casualties, but several get injured. And it escalates further the growing dispute between Russian authorities and people of Finland._

_But the strike had succeeded: the military service of Finns in Russian army is disbanded, for monetary compensation._

**_1903_ **

He had got a moment of breath with the revision of the conscript law. That alone gives him hope for the future. It was their first win. And a proof that they won’t just bend under the pressure. They’ll fight, with teeth and nails, to hold onto what they rightfully deserve. But he knows Russia will not hold back with repressing them, any means necessary.

He thinks of Polish rebellions and what had followed. Is he strong enough to face something like that? ( _strong like Feliks was_ )

For years, Tino had thought he was just arrogant and too proud. Endlessly stubborn. But now he respects the Pole for that unyielding will for refusing to give in, no matter how low he was beaten. Not many have such strength.

It’s ironic, but now he wishes himself to grow to that same kind of will.

When Ivan calls him to his premises to hear of another change to be implemented in the Grand Duchy, he feels it in his gut that things will get worse again.

“With the unrest and rising resistance of your people to work with the empire, your general governor will be given the topmost power of decision making and the right to dictate the law as he sees fit” Ivan explains calmly.

Tino feels his fury rising right away “That’s… that’s _dictatorship!_ ”

“Bobrikov needs to restore order in your land. If that’s what it requires then it’s what must be done”

“You...you have no right to…” he shakes his head in despair.

“Finland is under the tsar’s command. Like you are under mine”

He bites his lip. Here they are again. Crossroads of how the governance of his country should be run. He knows anything he says will not change Ivan’s mind.

“Don’t think this will be easy” Tino doesn’t hold back the threat in his words.

“I certainly will not. Which is why Bobrikov will use _any_ means necessary”

The pressure in the words tells him there’s a warning behind them. But whatever it implicates, he can’t show he’s afraid.

“We won't accept this quietly” despite his insecurity, Tino keeps his head held high.

_Bobrikov is admitted dictatorial powers: authority to arrest or deport anyone he wishes, legal right to intervene in most of the country’s issues, forbid demonstrations…_

_Censorship tightens further, resistance movement members are tracked down and deported, the officers refusing to obey the governor are dismissed. But with the extreme measures taken by Bobrikov, the resistance in Finland becomes even more active._

**_1904_ **

It’s getting harder to keep up his spirits. His visits to his land are getting rarer and they’re under strict supervision. He can’t talk to his people freely, only to those his Russian escorts see fit, those that are compliant to the tsar. What happens in the Grand Duchy he only learns through sources that are without doubt following the strict censorship.

Tino doesn’t feel confident of how long he can keep this up.

“Eduard, it just… feels so hopeless” he admits in a muffled voice. All the encouragement from his friend is not enough when himself he’s so unable to do anything.

“You’ll have to trust your people to keep fighting” the Estonian says softly.

“I want to be with them, fighting by their side. But I don’t even know what really is happening there anymore…”

“Whatever it is, I’m sure they’re still resisting. What you can do now is to believe in them”

“I know… But I’m just so tired of sitting here and doing nothing”

Eduard puts his arm around him encouragingly. “Don’t give into despair, Tino. If you do, it’d mean Russia has already won”

Everyone else there are already present when he walks in. Ivan had called up all of them to gather suddenly, without doubt to share important news. He doesn’t really know what to expect, whether it will get worse or better for them.

“Japan has attacked _Port Arthur_ ”

Surprised expressions fall on each of them. The harbor city in China, that Russia had only recently gained, was an important naval base for the empire. An attack there meant war.

“I must leave there soonest. The house will be under strict protection of the guards while I’m away” _They’ll be strictly supervised. Even if he’s away himself, they can’t act out of line._

A daring thought still occurs for Tino. With Ivan away, he’d feel more confident to try what has been on his mind for weeks now.

It’s quarter past midnight. Breathing in deeply, Tino gathers his courage and steps out the door. The knife he stole from the kitchen the other day feels heavy in his pocket. He’ll need it when he has to take out the guards he’ll face on the way out.

But he’s not prepared when the door from the other side opens as well, opposite his room. Feliks stands there, staring at him. Tino can’t make out anything from his blank look.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” the Pole breaks the silence lingering over them.

The Finn frowns quietly, not willing to answer the question. Feliks smirks.

“I knew it. The way you’ve been sneaking around, looking for the route that would be the least riskiest… Been there, done that”

“You… you’re not going to turn me in, right?”

“No. I thought like that... I could help you or something” Feliks crosses his hands behind his neck, slightly flushed and avoids his gaze.

His mouth falls open in disbelief. _That_ he did not expect. “Why would _you_ \--” 

“I don’t know. Guess I just want to see the bastard pissed off when he sees his favorite pet finally ran off on him” he shrugs “And… I think you’re kinda like... getting cooler”

Tino smiles. Even less he expected a compliment from the slim man who’s only thrown derision and spite at him all the while he’s been here. “Thank you, Feliks”

If it weren’t for Feliks, he’s not sure if his plan could have succeeded at all. The Pole had known another, safer route he had not found. And even then there had been four guards they had to fight before Tino got to stables. 

Now he’s on a horse, riding hard, on his way to the train station. He knows that eventually, he’ll be dragged back here (Ivan won’t hesitate to go to any lengths to track him down), but even if it’s only for a while, he considers it a victory he got away.

Reaching Helsinki on his own feels like being able to breathe at last. Even if he has to stay underground, carefully out of sight of any authorities who might give him away. But he’s here finally, without any supervision, among his people where he belongs. 

He had quickly learned of all he had feared to happen: the deportations, dismissals, abolitions… And as he walks on the streets, the signs have now Russian letters too, on top of their Finnish and Swedish names. But as much as all that despairs him, it ignites him too, to keep on resisting harder.

He decides to join a protest rally.

Attending a large demonstration like this, undetected among the crowd, he feels such unity and strength as he stands with them. The pride and will of his people give him courage like no other. He’s not sure what brave folly takes over him, but he climbs on the stage. The people gathered around look at him curiously, not expecting a young face like him rising to speak. Heart beating wildly in his chest, Tino inhales and shouts.

_“Down with oppression and violence! Down with Bobrikov, Nikolai and their bloody tyranny! Long live the freedom!”_

A thunderous applause and cheer follows. Tino can’t stop smiling as he gets back down. It had felt so good to shout out his mind.

_The opposition against Bobrikov kept growing, increasingly becoming more radical. It escalates with the activist Eugen Schauman shooting the dictator, at the stairs of the Senate. Bobrikov dies of his wounds. Schauman shoots himself after his deed._

The dictator governor’s death had come sudden and unexpected, but it’s more of a relief than anything. And Tino can’t help, but be proud of the man who had done the favor for all of them.

Himself he had been caught by Russian authorities soon after. The description of his looks surely had spread around already and there were people out there looking for him. And having already exposed himself on the rally stage, it was only a matter of time. 

As Tino returns to St. Petersburgh, he’s not even that upset. He only worries that consequences Bobrikov’s murder will have for his land.

When he returns to the house, Ivan is the first one there to greet him.

“I didn’t expect for Grand Duchy to take this… so far. To such anarchy” the Russian speaks, voice full of judgement. And disappointment. “Or your disobedience to run this deep”

“It was your actions that drove me to run away. I saw no other way to connect with my people” his voice doesn’t waver. As neither does his gaze, as he looks up at Ivan.

“The current thoughts of your people will just worsen your agitation. It’s better you don’t meet them now, it’s-”

“ _For my own good_ ” he repeats the phrase that he’s heard too many times lately.

Ivan narrows his eyes, indignant at how the Finn had mockingly thrown his words back at him. It’s unbelievable how his loyal, amenable, _beloved_ Tino had turned so disrespectful and stubborn in such a short time. 

“You will condemn Bobrikov’s murder, formally for the tsar” he speaks his words with authority. No matter what he felt for Tino, _still feels,_ Finland needs to learn his place.

“No” 

His eyes widen at how unhesitant the shorter man's reply was.

“What was done for your general governor was a vicious, appalling act of crime-”

“One he deserved”

Ivan raises his hand and slaps it with force across the Northerner’s face. What follows is deafening silence.

The strike burns on Tino’s right cheek where he had been hit. He’s sure it will leave a mark. But he’s not sure which one which one stings him more: the pain there or the fact that for the first time, Ivan truly had raised his hand against him. And doesn’t look like he regrets it.

The Russian says nothing as he walks past him.

**_1905_ **

_Russo-Japanese war had progressed very poorly for Russia and the increasing dissatisfaction kept growing all around the empire. A strike of workers broke out in December and people took it to the streets, demanding reforms to improve their conditions and end the autocratic power of the tsar._

It was not only his people who were not content. Despite the tight censorship, Tino had learned that all over Russia the citizens were rebelling, from factory workers to army officers.

The instability of it all showed on Ivan. He was easily agitated, unpredictable with his behavior now. A simple thing like a house chore done not the way he wanted, could anger him to furious shouting. Or even violence. He had hit Ravis for leaving a table dusty.

All of them try to keep their heads low now, to avoid rising the Russian’s now explosive temper.

“I will see the tsar at Winter Palace. Lithuania will accompany me” Ivan tells them when the restlessness at St. Petersburgh increases. Next to him, Toris keeps looking at his feet, anxiety of him evident. It’s clear he doesn’t wish to take the task of accompanying their lord. Feliks keeps frowning unhappily, but doesn’t dare to speak up. He might make it worse for his partner if he shows attitude now.

Tino used to be the one Ivan always asked as his escort for these tasks. It’s hard to admit, but the thought... saddens him. They’ve fallen apart so far that it’s like he doesn’t know Ivan anymore. The person that used to be so dear to him is like a stranger now.

They return in much worse state than they left. Ivan’s eyes are hazed and empty, like something has shattered inside him. For a moment, it fills Tino with that familiar affection he held for the man for decades and wishes he could give his comfort. But it passes quickly. He just can’t go back to being that pillar in the Russian’s life anymore. Not after all that has happened.

Toris is pale and distressed, his eyes bloodshot and purple bags under then. Whatever happened there, must have been horrible.

It doesn’t take long before they learn of what happened on _Bloody Sunday_. 

_Thousands of protesters march to the gates of Winter Palace on 22nd of January. It’s a peaceful demonstration, people there only singing and carrying icons. Despite that, the agitated security forces of Nikolai II open fire on the unarmed protestors. Hundreds die from their bullets._

_The event leads to a wider general strike and further riots. The situation in Russia is turning increasingly restless._ _The war against Japan keeps turning worse and more unfavorable. Due to internal unrest and international diplomatic pressure, Russia gives in for humiliating peace._

_In October, Nikolai II gives in under pressure and complies to demands of the protestors: the tsar’s power will be limited and Russia changes from absolute monarchy to the constitutional monarchy. The First Russian Revolution has taken place._

“We have come to a new age” Ivan speaks with his head held high, his voice a strange blend of pride of change and fear of the unknown. “Nikolai has gracefully given power for his beloved people. Together with the Parliament, the tsar will lead us to a stronger future”

The Russian smiles as he raises his glass, but it doesn’t look sincere.

The change is obviously a win for the common folk. But what is it for them and their oppressed lands, they don’t know. For now, it’s only uncertainty.

“Finlandiya, come speak with me. I have news concerning the Grand Duchy” Ivan says suddenly and Tino flinches from the unexpected addressing. He follows after the taller man, not sure if he should be looking forward or be afraid of what he will hear.

“Congratulations” the Russian says as he slides a document over the table. Tino eyes at him with doubt and with nearly shaking hands, reaches to take it.

It’s a manifesto from Nikolai. To revise the policy that has been abolishing Finland’s autonomy.

“D-does this mean…?” he doesn’t dare to hope what he thinks it is.

“Yes. Your land’s self-governing state will be returned” Ivan’s expression shows no emotion as he says it. “And he has approved the Senate’s plea to reform the Diet too. You’ll have a Parliament in future”

 _He won._ It’s hard to believe, that just like that, he had regained his position. The oppression had finally ended.

“And I? I can go back to travelling to my country as I please?”

For a short moment, Ivan stays quiet, before he replies. “Yes”

The triumph of victory rises in him, lifting his spirit. All that tireless resistance had not been in vain.

“Then the first thing I’ll do tomorrow will be getting a train ticket to Helsinki” he announces confidently.

“If that is what you wish” Ivan is oddly calm with his reaction. But if this change is what his tsar has decided, he won’t have a reason to object.

The Finn turns around, walking away with brisk steps, a smile rising on his lips.

“Tino” he hears Ivan calling when he reaches the door. He looks behind slowly, in doubt. The Russian has not called him by his name since he denied it.

“Could we… could we too... _go back?_ ” Ivan asks him pleadingly, his wide violet eyes both sad and warily hopeful.

 _To what they used to be._ Melancholy overwhelms him as he looks at the ashen haired man, his pitiful attempt of reconciliation. A side of him wants to forgive Ivan, to give him one last chance. But a stronger, prouder side of him could never agree to that. His pride as a nation. And the trust that had been broken.

“I… I don’t think I can” Tino replies and his voice almost breaks.

Ivan’s eyes fall downwards, rueful and disappointed. “I see” he says quietly.

Tino walks out of the room his head low. In his chest, there's a stinging pain. Such ache can be nothing less than a heartbreak.


	8. Chapter 8

The scenery in front of him is breathtaking. Grand fells, spruce forests, crystal clear lakes… Lapland never fails to astonish him with it’s bleak beauty. He’s travelled in the wilderness for days now, not having seen a single soul yet. But he knows-- _feels_ it, that he will soon be at the very outskirts of his land, his northern borders.

When Tino reaches the grand lake _Kilpisjärvi_ , he already feels the presence of his kind nearby. Of someone he has not seen in decades.

  
  


“I was happy when I got your letter, that you wanted to see me. But couldn’t you think of anywhere better accessible? Not that I don’t appreciate the place, just took a fair while to get up here…” Tino calls out as he sees the familiar figure approaching from the distance.

“No. I had to see and feel it myself, my own new borders” for once, the blond young man greets him with a smile, a rare sight. But he has every reason to.

“Good to see you, Lukas. And congratulations for your independence”

The smile on the fair Norwegian widens.

“Your declaration came quite… unexpected. How did that happen?” Tino asks. They’ve set up a campfire, its quiet crackle warming them comfortably.

“We’ve thought about it for a while. And decided might as well go and do it” Lukas shrugs.

“And how did… Sweden take it?”

“Not good, obviously. He was furious. And he even threatened me with war, but never actually went through with it” the Norwegian throws another log in the fire. “Pussy”

Tino smiles lightly. His previous kingdom was such a non-aggressor nowadays. Sweden seemed to have lost his ambitions of being a great power completely, the nation’s focus shifted to the well-being of its people instead. It’s an admirable feature. He wishes there were more nations like that in the world. Melancholy fills him as he thinks of the staid Swede.

“What was it like? Living with Berwald for these years?”

“Most of it, I could do as I pleased. My country’s self-governance was as wide as it could be after all. But I never really liked it there. And we hardly could agree on anything. I always wanted more space, more freedom”

“I see…” Tino can’t help, but feel bitter, of how much more liberties the Norwegian had with the Swede than he ever did. And that Lukas had been able to leave for his own nationhood, just like that.

“How are you doing?” the other Northerner asks him, taken note of his rueful look.

“I got back my autonomy” the Finn smiles proudly.

“And?”

Taken aback with the dismissive tone, he looks upsetly at Lukas. “And what?”

“You’re going to settle just with that?”

Tino frowns, can’t help but feel offended. “Do you know how much effort that took? One of my people had to shoot a general governor! And if it weren’t for that revolution, I’m not sure if-”

“Your situation is very different, alright. I’m just saying, don’t… underestimate yourself. You and your people are stronger than you think”

At first, Tino can just stare blankly at the Norwegian, understanding the implication of his compliment. But not really believing it. Lukas looks back at him, eyebrows raised with meaning. Before any hope ignites him, he closes his eyes and sighs heavily.

“Russia will never let me leave” it’s just better to accept the reality, not live for any false dreams that can’t ever happen.

Lukas watches him quietly, but his look is not one of pity. Just one wondering why the Finn accepts his stance just like that. What has him so _chained_ to his empire. After a while, Lukas looks away, up at the starry sky. “Nothing is forever. We know that better than anyone”

Tino turns his gaze upwards as well. In that moment, under the stars and in the embrace of their untamed wilderness, the Norwegian’s words nearly dare him to hope.

**_1907_ **

_Nikolai II ordered the Diet to assemble to discuss the future reforms and the principality of universal and equal suffrage. With the establishment of the new Parliament, it’s the last Diet of Estates held in Finland. With the new suffrage, Finland becomes the first country in Europe and second in the world, to give women the right to vote._

It was a huge change itself, to leap in one jump from medieval Diet representatives to the most advanced governance there is. The transition had caused a high, restless surge inside him as those eligible to vote had risen tenfold. No status of the voter mattered anymore. Any man aged over 24 could vote now. And woman.

He’s proud of the change. But despite that, so far this new way of governance of his country only looks like a mess.

There are no estates anymore. There’s different parties now, representing all of his people’s opinions and wishes. It’s fair and equal, he appreciates that. But how could these parties ever agree on anything when they all want everything so differently? 

It’s sad to see that the threat to their autonomy had not been enough to unify his people. In fact, they seem even more divided now, with this new governance. They’re highly opinionated in their stances, no one really willing to yield on them. Their disputes seem so deep he’s not sure if they ever can come to satisfactory decisions.

He knows this modern governance is an improvement and will lead his country for better in the long run. But right now, it’s hard to see that better of it.

Tino sighs heavily as he watches his people’s stark arguing from the backseat. After watching their debate for hours, it’s too tiring to follow anymore. He stands and leaves the hall quietly. Politics have never been in his interests.

  
  


“How was your first observation of your Parliament?” Eduard asks him. He smiles, but there’s distinct envy in his voice.

“If I’m honest, a headache. I didn’t know how divided they were in their opinions” Tino crosses his hands, huffing in frustration.

“But that’s what divided power of people is. They can never fully agree with their decisions. But it’s far better than autocratic rule could ever be…”

“I know. But if they’d rather try to put more effort on working together than all that wrangling we’d see actual results sooner”

“Tino, _patience_. It’s not overnight your country can get back their power from the tsar”

“It’s not like we’re getting rid of him. The Senate will still need tsar’s approval to whatever they decide. And he’ll have the power dissolute the parliament”

“For now” Eduard smiles impishly and when the initial surprise of hearing such a daring hint from his friend, Tino returns it. Who knows, gradually they might get rid of the tsar having any power over his land.

_The restlessness in Russia continued as terrorists murdered officials and in turn the government tracked them down and hanged them. Furthermore, even if Nikolai II had agreed to the constitution and creation of the legislative State Duma (Parliament), he was still reluctant to truly share his power. He kept driving the governance towards a more conversative way, ensuring the true power stayed with him._

The ambiance in the house is less tense now. Ivan doesn’t stalk their every move anymore and is not so easily agitated. It’s likely because his own nation has enough internal issues itself now. The people, the tsar and the new Duma are so diverged from one another their disputes must tire him down themselves.

But it’s clear he’s not willing to let them loose. Tino is the only one who had been able to regain his status, but even he doesn’t feel like he’s really out of Russia’s control. Well, he never was. The autonomy had just given him that illusion.

And now that he got it back, he still doesn’t feel quite content. There’s this… restlessness in him. That not any privilege seems to satisfy anymore.

Tino is glad to notice that the friendships he thought he lost seem to have healed now. 

Raivis and Aurel don’t approach him with such doubt anymore. Now they’re returning his smiles and occasionally even ask him to join their childish plays. Katyusha and Natasha don’t regard him just as their brother’s infatuation, but care for him just for himself. The benevolence from Toris seems to have returned too, the green eyes now looking at him as kindly as they used to.

And Feliks. Somewhere the Pole had stopped completely the mocking and derision he had heard for years. Now there was just the occasional, good-natured teasing - a kind that could be from someone that could be thought of as a friend. It’s strange how Feliks’ regard of him has changed so much - they seem to hold some mutual respect for each other now.

**_1908_ **

_The defeat to Japan had left the Russian empire vulnerable: it’s once mighty navy had been nearly completely destroyed. And with the accelerating military rearmament of Europe and internal unrest, strengthening and unifying the nation leads Nikolai II’s and the Duma’s policies. Ensuring the protection of the capital St. Petersburg and control of the Baltic Sea becomes crucial. To secure this, Grand Duchy of Finland needs to be a stable stronghold for Russia. Nikolai II gives out an edict that discontinues the old power tradition of Finland’s governance between the Finnish Senate and the tsar, moving it to under quorum of Russian cabinet. The legislative matters concerning the land are now considered under general matters of the empire, disregarding the autonomous state of Finland._

  
  


The relief of regaining his sovereignty didn’t last long. In Russia, the Parliament was now full of conservatives and nationalists, who did not take kindly on the Grand Duchy’s special state. When he learns that his land’s autonomy is being threatened again, he’s hardly even surprised.

But this time, he feels much more confident and stronger to fight for it.

“I didn’t bend last time, don’t think I will this time either” Tino doesn’t feel afraid the slightest as he faces Ivan again. The violet eyes stare down at him with pressure, the look in them stern and unkind. It’s hard to remember how gently and adoringly they used to look at him.

“I wouldn’t expect any less”

The two men stare at each other quietly, a silent battle of wills. As much as the Russian is uncompromising, the Finn is equally stubborn. Neither of them will give in.

“Nikolai and my Parliament are not doing this for a light reason… The strategic situation is completely changed now. There’s a strong nation in Europe that keeps coming closer to my borders” Ivan explains, drifting their conversation towards a more political stance, wishing that would make his subject more cooperative, if he understands the reasons behind. “And I need St. Petersburg to be absolutely secured”

“And my land absolutely subdued” Tino understands perfectly the situation. Germany’s growing presence concerns Russia and the borderlands to the west need all to be indisputably stable. Under complete command for the empire. Even if he understands it doesn’t mean he will accept it. “We… I will never be that. No matter what’s the reason. You know that” he says, his voice a hint gentler.

“Then I will need to _shape you_ until you are” Ivan replies harshly. A sense of fright surges in the Finn, taken aback with the threat. “I can’t no longer see you as the quiet and loyal Duchy you used to be. You’ve shown you can be prone to aggression and rebellion, unpredictability. It’s a risk to our security that must be done away with”

Tino feels his heartbeat fastening with anxiety. The Russian has stepped closer now, almost into his personal space. Tino takes unconsciously a few steps back.

“I don’t want to be your enemy, Finlandiya. But you’re making it very hard not to be” Ivan’s voice suddenly changes to a softer tone and he raises his hand, landing it on the Finn’s cheek, caressing it. In the past, the gesture would have filled Tino with affection. But now, it only freezes him with dread. The finger on his cheek moves downwards, over his lips and he nearly forgets to breathe. Ivan’s eyes fall on his mouth, in them that familiar desire that used to make him weak. Tino briefly wonders if he’s going to kiss him.

“Why couldn’t you just stay that way?” the Russian asks quietly. “So faithful and amiable... My perfect protectorate”

“It was you who changed” Tino replies, trying to keep his voice even. His heartbeat is loud in his ears. “And I was… never yours. Not the way you wanted” he hardly dares to voice out loud his last words. But it felt so good to say them.

The gentle look of Ivan changes, in his eyes now deep sorrow and hurt, as the bitter truth dawns on him. The Russian looks like he could break down crying right there and then. But soon, it changes to frantic fury and his hand moves from Tino’s lips to his chin, taking a firm hold of it. Bending his head upwards, the Russian stares down at him, eyes wide and dark. The look in them is like madness.

“You’ve been mine since 1809. And you will always be”

Ivan lets go of him with a hard shove and losing his balance, he falls, crashing painfully against the door. Ivan steps over him as he leaves the room.

Tino stays lying where he had been left, breathing heavily. He’s too distraught to get himself back on his feet. The fear for his future feels overwhelming now. And understanding the truth, that Ivan he used to cherish, is not there anymore. If he ever truly knew Ivan at all.

**_1910_ **

  
  


_The unification policy of Russia strengthens with the nationalist, conservative Duma. Finland faces another edict that diminishes its autonomy, one that gives further legislative power over its affairs for the Russian cabinet, demolishing the country’s own legal system._

He used to adore this city. The life of it, it’s stark beauty and grandness. But now, as he looks at it’s busy streets and fair structures, he feels nothing at all.

The carriage stops in front of the Tauride Palace.

It takes a long while before they’ve walked through the massive garden to reach the entrance.

The building they step in is grand and graceful, perfect for it’s previous use that was to hold balls and exhibitions. But now, it’s used for an entirely different purpose. It has Russia’s most influential forces working there. It’s the seat of the _Imperial State Duma_.

Their steps echo on the marble floor as they walk there in silence. He and Ivan have not talked anything at all on their way there. They’re far past that comfort.

Ivan had demanded his presence as his Duma would be discussing the position of his land in the empire on this session. It had not taken him long to realize it would be a talk of how to get rid of that. The sole reason he’s here is intimidation.

The hall they come in is full of older, bearded men in suits, staid and uptight as they sit on their seats. They regard Ivan only with small, respectful nods. Tino they don’t regard at all.

Already in the opening speech of the prime minister, there's a hostile tone that tells that most of these men here will want to see a total abolishment of his autonomy.

  
  


By the end of the session, Tino can hardly keep himself together. The fear and anger has his hands shaking, his gaze downwards. Next to him, Ivan sits straight and self-assured, ghost of a smile on his lips. The Russian knows he has succeeded with strangling his will.

_“Finis Finlandiae!”_ one of the deputies yells loudly. Tino wants to run out of the hall.

**_1912_ **

  
  


_The restarted policy of Russification of Finland grows stronger. Another law is enforced in the Grand Duchy, of equal rights of Russian citizens with Finnish ones there. On grounds of the new decree, all Finnish government and civil service positions are now open for Russians._

  
  


It’s getting harder to keep up any bleak hope for his future. The censorship has tightened again, the deportations restarted. Half of his Senate are Russians now who will push on further repressive policies to unify his country tighter to the empire. He’s been determined to keep on fighting, but for how long he can? 

His eyes on the ground, so low in his spirits, Tino doesn’t see the other two personifications until they’re right in front of him.

“What’s up with all that sulkiness?” Feliks looks him up and down with a frown, arms crossed. Next to him, Toris offers a slight smile, like a small apology of his partner’s rude words. 

“Not much. Just another law to suppress me” Tino shrugs and is about to continue his way. He really doesn’t feel like having any company right now.

“You let one silly law depress you that much?” the Pole calls after him.

“Well, it’s kind of hard trying to stay optimistic anymore…” he replies and keeps walking ahead.

“Is that all it takes?”

The Finn turns around, glaring at the other blond. He thought Feliks was past bullying him anymore. The Pole grins at him, like he’s proud to have him riled up.

“We’re heading towards Toris’ place. Come along. We have a thing or two to teach you about rebelling”

Tino scowls at him, but follows after them.

When they walk in Toris’ room, Feliks throws himself on the bed on his back, crossing his ankles. Toris takes the chair by the table. Tino stays standing as there are no other places to sit in the room. Shifting from one foot to another, he crosses his arms self-consciously.

“First lesson” Feliks raises up forefinger “cut out with all that depressive moping around. It’s like, you’ve already lost or something. And nothing pisses me off more than losers like that”

“ _I’m not-!”_

“Second lesson” he interrupts Tino “You never give up. Not under any circumstances, no matter how much odds are against you” the green eyes stare at him vigorously. The Finn sees again that fire in them. The fire that had kept alive the pride of Poland under all that ruthless oppression. Tino doesn’t feel sure if he can ever grow to a persistence like that.

“But I… I’m not like you” he admits, clenching his arms tighter around himself “I’ve only ever known life as land under the rule of another. I have never… stood on my own. I don’t know if I have strength, to resist against the world’s largest nat-”

“Shut it, will you” Feliks interrupts him again, rolling his eyes. “I know you’re totally not like, anywhere near as cool as me” the Pole ignores the glare Tino sends his way “But you’re not some weakling, okay? When you were with Sweden, you never hid behind him. In our wars, it was not like you were there just tagging along. And it was your damn horsemen that beat my Hussars”

The compliment leaves him speechless. He’s never heard Feliks talk of his defeats, only of his victories.

“And it was not exactly Sweden who fought off Russia when he came creeping to his borders. It was you, wasn’t it?” 

The Finn nods thoughtfully. It’s true. Countless times, he had to face Ivan alone in the east, be the rampart that kept Russia away from coming too close to the heartland. Strangely, Feliks’ harsh words have given him some courage.

“Third lesson” now it’s Toris who is speaking up. “If needed, make alliances with stronger countries. It’s noble and all, trying to survive on your own, but it can only carry you so far”

“I hate to admit, but you’re right, darling” Feliks smiles at his partner. “And not just some diplomatic bullshit. Do _proper_ deals with some actual aid” he adds. Too many times he’s heard empty words from the West, how ‘they stand with him and support his deed’, but never actually do anything when Russian soldiers march to his cities.

“I’ll keep that in mind” Tino smiles at the two of them. He already feels better. If anyone, it’s Poland and Lithuania who know how to keep on fighting when all seems lost.

Of their last advice he’s not sure about. He doesn’t even know who he should ally with. What stronger nation would care to support Finland when he hasn’t really anything to offer back?

**_1914_ **

_The power relations in Europe have reached a volatile point. Germany’s growing power and desire to become one of the dominating nations in the world have Britain, France and Russia allied to counter it. Austria-Hungary is creaking from it’s joints, the situation in the Balkan turning increasingly restless with the nationalist aspirations of the people there._

_What finally ignites on the move the chain of events that leads Europe to one of its most disastrous wars, is when Austrian crown prince is shot in Bosnia, by a Serbian nationalist._

The whole situation had taken a sudden, drastic turn. There was now a major war arising in Europe that had broken out so quickly that none of them felt prepared for it.

Tino can only feel uncertainty. He’s been so focused on his own struggle and resistance he’s hardly followed all that has been happening around the world lately.

“This is a conflict we can’t stay out of. I will support my Slavic comrades against Austria-Hungary without question. And that will, without doubt, have Germany move against us” Ivan gazes at them gravely behind his table. His subjects stand in two rows, facing each other. There’s tense trepidation in the air. “I will need the strength, the support from all of you. Only with the empire united, we can stand through this”

An attempt to join them together, against a common enemy. But most of them are too apart from Russia already. They will never stand with him purely from their own will.

After he’s given his speech, full of noble words and patriotism none of them can hardly relate to, they’re dismissed.

“Finlandiya, you’ll stay” Ivan says suddenly as they’re leaving. Distress rises in Tino as he halts. Eduard glances at him with concern, but the Finn forces a smile for his friend. _I’ll be alright._ The Estonian walks out with others. His distress grows as he watches them leave.

“What is it?” Tino asks once they’re alone.

“Have a drink with me” the Russian opens his cupboard, taking two glasses and a bottle of vodka from there. Frowning in doubt, the Finn wonders if this is some pitiful attempt at reconciliation. With reliving of their better times together.

He thinks of declining the offer, but that would only be running away from facing the Russian. _He’s stronger than that._ Tino walks to the table, taking the seat he’s not sat in for years.

Ivan smiles at him as he places the filled glass in front of him. Tino doesn’t return it. Walking around the table, the Russian takes his own seat.

“It is likely your land will be fortunate not to be where the battles take place” Ivan raises his glass to his lips. He downs the drink in one gulp. “Can’t say that for the rest of us… But I need you to be ready if-”

“It’s not my war” Tino doesn’t hesitate with his answer. Even if he knows Ivan won’t take it well. A rage flashes in the Russian’s eyes before he collects himself.

“I understand your desire for peace, but any war that’s Russia’s, is also yours”

“No. I intend to stay neutral”

Ivan looks at him quietly, with pressure. The Finn holds his gaze. Eyes narrowing with quiet rage, he throws his glass on the wall. Tino flinches as it shatters. But he refuses to take back his words.

“It’s now if ever that I need your absolute loyalty, Finlandiya. I can’t have any uncertainty of a borderland so near to my capital-”

“An autonomous Grand Duchy” he speaks up. He’s not where he gets all this bravery to defy Ivan like this. “And lately, you have given me no reason at all to stay loyal”

He stands up then, showing his words on the matter are final. As he walks towards the door, he feels infinitely proud from his words. Lukas was right. And Feliks and Toris. _He’s stronger than he--_

He hears a creak of a chair behind him, of Ivan rising too and his heavy steps coming towards him. With a slight panic, he hastily reaches towards the door handle. It opens, but before he can step out, a large hand presses the door close. Freezing, Tino feels the ominous presence right behind him.

“You have truly forgotten your place, Finlandiya” Ivan whispers, his voice thick with pressure. The hand on the door raises towards him, sneaking around his neck. Before he can react, he’s turned around swiftly, to face the furious look of Ivan. The hand presses him against the door, the tall fingers squeezing around his throat. Soon he has to gasp for breath.

“How many times do I have to remind you? Of who you belong to?” the grip tightens and Tino can’t breathe at all. The lack of oxygen has him wriggling madly, his hands trying to lose the suffocating grasp from his throat, but Ivan is immovable. The wide violet eyes have darker shade to them now. They almost look red. The Finn feels tears swelling up in his own eyes, his vision dizzy.

“It was _me_ who gave you the chance to grow away from Sweden. Who made you a place of your own in this world. Without me, you’d still be nothing, but half of another no one ever recognized”

There’s black spots in his vision now. Following Ivan’s words is becoming difficult.

“You’ve been so good by my side. Why did you have to turn this way?” finally, the grip on his throat eases. He breathes in the air with heavy gasps. “I only want us to be happy”

Ivan loses the hand around his neck. But Tino hardly gets to catch his breath as suddenly, there’s lips pressing on his. The kiss is gentle, but it’s the last thing he wants right now. He struggles against it, trying to turn away, but hands rise on his cheek and chest, keeping him firmly in his place, pressed against the door. Whimpering, Tino tries to resist as Ivan presses in closer, pushing his tongue inside his mouth. His anxiety grows, fearing how far the Russian will take it to show his power over him.

But at last, he ceases the forced kiss and looks at the Finn, adoringly. For a moment, Tino can nearly recognize there the man he cared for. But it flashes away quickly, as the oppressive gaze returns to his violet eyes.

“You will learn, eventually. Even if I have to shred you apart and build you up again” Ivan whispers, breathing heavily on his face. Tino, frozen with fright, can’t get a word out of his mouth. Then the taller man steps away from him, opening the door and leaves without another word. 

The Finn stays where he is, staring ahead blankly. Apprehending that he had not only been hurt, but... violated too. Leaning against the door, he falls on his feet and he can’t keep off his tears anymore.

  
  


Eduard flinches as he sees the Russian marching out of his premises. He doesn’t even see the Estonian standing quietly on the corner. Eduard glances in concern at the rooms from where his friend had not come out from.

“ _Soome?_ ” he calls out tentatively as he opens the door. The room looks empty at the first glance, but right next to the entrance, on the floor sits Tino. The Finn has his arms wrapped around his knees, head buried there. Eduard can easily hear his quiet sobs.

“Oh Tino…” he reaches his side, crouching down and arms going around the Northerner. He hugs him tightly, wishing he can ease whatever pain that’s been inflicted on his friend.

“I have to get out of here…” Tino says, voice ragged. He can’t stand it anymore, this suffocating house, all the oppression, feeling so damn _helpless._

_With ‘the July Crisis’, the situation escalates quickly over the summer to a large worldwide conflict of great powers._

_Russia implements further repressive policies in the Grand Duchy of Finland, with a goal of total abolishment of the land’s self-governance and complete Russification._

_The active resistance of Finns grows and within the restlessness of World war, some see a chance of diminishing Russian power over the land, or even a complete seceding from the empire. But for that, there needs to be a proper, trained military in the country. The resistance looks to the West for support._

**_1915_ **

It’s only when the ship leaves the harbor, that he finally breathes out in relief. It had worked.

The months of careful planning and encrypt letters had brought them success and now, finally, the program had set off. Slipping out of Russian authorities in Helsinki had been a task itself, but he had made it.

The sea air blowing against his face feels fresh and sweet. It tastes like freedom. He has not sailed to the west since becoming the Grand Duchy.

As they step on the familiar harbour, Tino is not surprised to see the familiar face among the escorts welcoming him and his men.

“ _Länge sen sist_ ” he says, corners of his lips rising as he looks up.

“Good to see you, Tino” Berwald’s smile is as warm as he remembers.

“It’s hard to believe, in this peace here, that a great war rages around the world” the Finn says contemplatively. The North was mostly untouched by the conflict that was wearing down most of the nations now.

“Mmh” Berwald nods. He’s always been short on his words. “I’m glad my people can stay out of it”

“Mine too, for now”

The Swede gazes on Tino sadly. It’s so unfair, that he has to live in the shadow of such an oppressive nation, known for his brutality of subjecting the lands under him.

“Are you sure about this alliance? When Russia learns that your people have been cooperating with-”

“It’s the only one I can count on” the Finn says with confidence. No other nation can support him now. Not even Sweden.

“I wish I could do more than be just a safe place of transition”

“That’s already helping me more than enough” Tino smiles cheerily. With Berwald, there’s always this sense of security, warmness. His mere presence seems to raise his hope for the future. “If it weren’t for you, me and my… boy scouts could never reach our campsite”

The Swede returns his smile. “It’s only diplomatic to support their hobbies”

Their stay at Stockholm is not long. After a few days, he and his men continue their way, to south and from there, to another ship.

It’s been so long since he’s been in Europe. He feels nearly as eager as his young countrymen with him. For many it’s their first trip outside their homeland. Tino smiles fondly as he watches their cheery faces and excited chatter.

From harbour, their journey continues on train.

When they finally reach their final destination, a large training district in the countryside, Tino recognizes the silver haired man among the soldiers waiting for them.

He’s glomped in rough embrace when they meet.

“You made it, you punk!” Gilbert slaps his back.

“I did” Tino smiles as he looks up to the red, gleaming eyes. The Prussian’s confidence already has him looking forward for the next few months.

“So, what was it that brought you and those boys all the way from North to train here?” 

“We don’t want to be pushed over by Russia anymore… Or by any other nation. Make us strong, Gilbert”

“You’re in the right place” his grin is luminous. “No one leaves German training camp as powerless. So be prepared for some really hard, awesome practice”

“We’re readier than ever”

“You better. But it won’t be me who’ll train you… I have to get back on the east front soon. But wanted to be here to to kick off your start, before he begins”

Confused, Tino looks at him curiously “Who?”

The Prussian’s smile widens. “My brother”

Ludwig Beilschmidt is a serious, stark man who looks strong in every way, both physically and mentally. And different like day to a night to his brother. While Gilbert is loud and brash, eccentric even, Ludwig is composed and formal with his demeanor. He looks like he was born to his role, representing the strength and modernism that is the German Empire.

“From what I understand, you’re here to prepare for an uprising against your empire?” the German asks him. He sits straight, hands crossed.

“Yes. If the situation escalates, we will support your landing in Finnish shores and rise up against Russia” Tino replies. Saying it out loud has his heart beating both with fear and zest.

“We will support your cause. It’s good to have a trusted ally in North” Ludwig offers his hand. Tino shakes it with might, smiling widely.

German training is demanding in all ways. It’s not only the mercilessly hard and repetitive exercise, but the formality of it. Officers and superiors have to be greeted precisely and all tasks, no matter how small or insignificant, need to be done with absolute dedication.

Ludwig doesn’t hesitate pushing him to his limits. In the training field, there’s nothing left of his calmness, as he yells loudly for the Finn to _go faster, aim higher, do it better!_

_The Jäger Movement recruits over 1000 volunteers to train in Germany as elite light infantry. For Finland it’s a chance of creating its own sovereign state, for Germany one of many means to weaken Russia. The Finnish recruits are formed into the Royal Prussian 27th Jäger Battalion that later fight in the ranks of German Army in battles on the eastern front._

**_1916_ **

  
  


Tino had thought for sure he wouldn’t be participating in this war. But here he is. And fighting on the side he never expected. The side of his empire’s enemy.

As the tough training had come to an end, instead of returning home, they were sent out to battlefront. All involved thought it was crucial for the freshly trained soldiers to get real field experience. He didn’t object to it, but wishes not too many of his men will need to lose their lives for this. His new battalion will have no purpose if not enough of them ever make it back home.

They’ve been placed at posts along the Gulf of Riga, where the situation, as in most of the fronts, has frozen to a harrowing trench warfare.

  
  


“Anything new?” he asks the soldier that returns from his inspection mission.

“As quiet as yesterday” the man answers as he lights up his cigarette.

Huffing out in frustration, Tino leans his head back against the ground wall. The soldier crouches down next to him.

“How long do we have to stay stuck here?”

“As long as Germans see it fit, I guess” Tino sighs. Their alliance was in no means unfit, it was necessary, but as all nations, Germany too held above his own interests when training him. It was not simply of his good will to support the liberation of Finland.

“Do you think we can do it? When the time comes?” the soldier looks at him cautiously.

“Only time will tell” Tino offers him an encouraging smile. “But no matter what happens, it will not be in vain. It will show Russia and the world we can and that we will fight”

And Ivan will see that he can’t be just walked over. But the Russian won’t accept it easily. Tino knows he will be beaten to ground and stomped on ruthlessly before he does.

The thought, that somewhere over the other side of the frontier, Ivan fights there among the rank of his men, slightly disturbs him. He knows he will be the first one to face the rage of Russia when it comes to knowledge that there’s Finns too within the German lines.

It’s until December he’s stuck at Livonian shores before he’s finally allowed to travel home.

**_1917_ **

  
  


The moment he steps out of the ship at harbour Helsinki, he’s caught by Russian authorities.

“I guess I will be going straight to the train station from here?”

The staid officers say nothing in answer, only walk up to him and take firm hold of both of his arms. Tino doesn’t put up a resistance as they chain his hands. The time to fight is not yet.

The Finn watches quietly at the passing scenery, the familiar sights that he’s learned to know by heart over the years of travelling between the empire’s capital and his own. But somehow, this time the route feels somehow... different. Like there’s something final about it.

When he’s left at the yard of the familiar house, Tino breathes in deeply, bracing himself to whatever he will face when he goes in there.  The door creaks as he opens it. There’s no one in the hallway. He doesn’t announce his arrival and briefly wonders if he could just go upstairs unnoticed, to hide in his room.  But eventually, he will have to face his empire. It would only delay the inevitable.

Smell of Borscht-soup from the dining hall tells him where the occupants are.

His heart drummers in his chest as he walks in. In the long dining table, there’s only five personifications present there.

“Welcome back, Finlandiya” Ivan smiles at him. There’s nothing genuine about it. His sisters Eduard and Aurel have turned their eyes on him too. All of them look blank, joyless. The war has brought its toll on all of them.

“As you see, three of us are missing” the Russian’s voice is melancholic as he speaks. “I’m afraid I… have lost them. For now” The spirits of Poland, Lithuania and Livonia are not there.

“Come, have dinner with us” he says.

Tino stays standing near the doorway nervously, wondering when it will be when Ivan will release his anger on him. He must surely have learned by now of  _ Jägers _ and Tino’s involvement with them. But he can’t refuse the invitation. It will only worsen whatever will happen.

Cautiously, he steps inside, walking towards the table. A deafening silence hangs over them as he takes his seat. There’s an already soup filled plate in front of him.

“How have you managed the task I asked from you? Of ensuring the stability between your shores and St. Petersburg?” Ivan asks him.

The Finn’s hands nearly start shaking just from the question, but he forces a disguise of calmness over himself. “I-I’ve spent most of the time in Grand Duchy, ensuring that we can provide provisions and equipment--”

“Yes, your land has been a vital supplier in these difficult times. Where would I be without your loyal support” Ivan’s words are far too flattering. They only increase his uneasiness.

“Do you know why a few of our friends are missing?”

Tino doesn’t answer the questions. He knows where the conversation is heading towards.

“Their lands have been occupied by Germany” the Russian’s voice is cold. “Our enemy has… ripped apart our family. That I’ve fought for months trying to protect. In muddy trenches, starving and dead tired as my soldiers”

The Finn stares at his plate, frozen in his place. Not daring to move or to speak at all.

“It is interesting that you said while we’ve been away you’ve been handling the matters at your land. As my contacts tell me a different story… that you have been missing  _ for a year _ ”

his voice gets sharper with every word. “And even more interesting, is that they say they’ve detected… military activity. Between you and Germany”

He’s done being quiet. “Yes, I’ve been training in Germany”

Ivan’s eyes widen, taken aback by how easily the Finn had just admitted his treachery.

“ _ Because I can’t stand living like this anymore! _ With this... insecurity. Fearing what your tsars decide and what happens to me when you fall into another turmoil. And I can’t take it anymore, how you oppress every one of us here!” 

Tino breathes heavily after his outburst. The Russian looks at him quietly from his place. Tino knows his fury will break out any moment. He wonders if he’ll be dragged down to that cellar floor, how many scars he’ll have on his back after tonight.

“So you have really come to hate me so much” the fragile voice he hears is the last thing he expected. “That you would take the side of my enemy, just to get away from me…”

He expected anger, violence, but not  _ this. _ Ivan’s eyes have fallen down, his whole bearing just pitiful. Like he’s just given up.

The Russian raises up, walking away head low, sorrow all over him.

_ In Russian Empire, discontent towards the Tsar and Duma had grown enormously with the World War. The lack of provisions, tiredness to the war and great defeats were demoralizing people all over the nation. In the beginning of 1917, strikes and riots have driven St. Petersburg to a chaotical stage. People began to demand a complete surrender of power from the tsar. As the soldiers don’t want no longer to shoot their own citizens, they take the side of the rioters. In March, Nikolai II abdicated his crown. _

_ The sudden February Revolution puts an end to Russification in Finland. _

It seems like Ivan’s own nation has broken him. 

He hardly speaks during their dinners, walking into the dining hall with heavy steps, eyes hazy and grey, full of uncertainty like his empire.  The Russian stays mostly in his rooms now, by himself and besides dining, leaves from there only to attend meetings in the city whenever his new governance requires it.

Finland’s autonomy has been returned to its full extent, wider even. They had no need to raise their arms against the empire in the end. Tino is glad of the turn of the events. Less spilled blood, the better.

His position in the empire is as good as it can be now. But the autonomy, it just doesn’t… seem enough anymore.

When another revolution breaks out in November, he knows his time has come.

_ Socialist Bolsheviks led by Vladimir Lenin had gained favour of Russian citizens, with promises of “Peace, land and bread” and power to the people. In November, they overthrew the provisional government of Russian empire and took over the rule of the nation, establishing Soviet Russia. _

_ With the end of the tsarist Russia, Finland sees the chance to break away and establish their own, sovereign nation. On 6th of December of 1917, the land declared itself independent. _

The light paper feels heavy in his hand. And it’s hard to keep his hands from shaking as he knocks on the door.

“Come in” Ivan’s quiet, ragged voice calls behind it.

Tino breathes in deeply as he walks inside.

Strong smell of vodka fills his nostrils. It’s no wonder as on the table and under it, there’s lying several empty bottles. Behind the desk, sits Ivan, his posture crouched forward, eyes empty and sleepless.

“What is it, Finlandiya?” his smile is cracked and there’s nothing of genuine delight in it.

“I received this from my government” he forces his voice even as he places the paper on the table. “They will… declare my land independent”

Ivan reaches his hand slowly towards it, taking the paper.

“I… I’m leaving. For good” Tino says quietly, but with resolve.

The Russian reads through the document carefully, his face void of any emotion.

“Oh, I guess I must… sign this then”

Tino blinks, not being able to believe the calmness of the situation and how the man who had sworn to keep him and never let go, by many ruthless means, had accepted it - _ just like that. _ With no anger, no threats, nothing.

He stares in disbelief as Ivan signs the paper with care, the formal extradition of his custody being handed over for Finnish government. How easily the Russian just lets him go.

“Congratulations, Republic of Finland” he says as he hands it over back to Tino.

It’s only after he walks out of the room when a smile rises on his lips.  _ He’s free. _

“Never thought you’d be the first who leaves” Natasha looks at him as seriously as always. Her cold gaze doesn’t show anything, but Tino thinks in her words there was a slightest hint of some respect.

“I wish all the fortune for your future” Katyusha smiles kindly and pulls him into a tight embrace. A blush rises on the Finn’s cheeks, but he hugs her back.

“Thank you, Ukraine. I wish the same for you…”

He lets go of her with a smile and moves on to Aurel, crouching down to the level of the small boy. “Next time we meet, I hope you’ve grown a little”

“You will see! I’ll have grown at least as tall as you!” he says with determination “I think I will go back to living with my brother soon” Aurel continues quietly.

“I’m sure Romania will gladly take you” Tino ruffles the boy’s hair.

The last one to say his farewells is Eduard. His dearest friend smiles at him proudly. There’s nothing melancholic about their parting. They both know they’ll see each other soon. Tino still pulls him into a tight embrace. His years here, they would have been far lonelier without the Estonian’s faithful company.

“I won’t be far behind you” Eduard whispers his promise. Estonia’s day of pride too shall arrive soon enough.

Tino waves cheerily at all of them before he walks out with his luggage. Outside, the carriage is already there. Next to it, stands Ivan, waiting for him.

Their ride to the train station is in complete silence. There’s a rueful mood between them, as their joined road of over a century will part now. But far stronger than that melancholy, Tino feels his own hope and ardor, for his future as his own nation.

“So… this is it then”

It’s hard to think of words to say now. They’re standing on a platform, from where the train will take him home, onto his own road, out of this life as Grand Duchy of Russia.

Ivan gazes at him with a sorrowful smile. Tino doesn’t know how he should bid his farewell for this man, who had given and taken him so much.

“This is it” Ivan replies “I can’t deny the grief I feel of this… parting”

“Yes, it’s… bittersweet” Tino nods thoughtfully.

“I’m sorry our last years were not kind”

The apology has his eyes widening in surprise. He’s not sure if it’s the Revolution’s change in the Russian that has him in regret or which reason, but the words lighten his heart.

“No, you were not” he admits. “But despite what happened, I want you to know that… before all of that, it was good. And I was really happy in our... kinder years”

“I’ll always think of them fondly”

Tino feels his eyes dampening, but forces his tears off. This might be their ending, but it’s his beginning for something better. He holds out his hand. He wants them to part without too many ill feelings.

“Goodbye, Ivan”

Ivan looks at his hand with hazy, sad eyes. Like he’s not quite ready to bid him farewell.

“Tino, could I… hold you? Just one more time?”

The request takes him by surprise. But it’s not one that’s appalling him. Not at all.

The Finn smiles and opens his arms. The Russian steps towards him tentatively and engulfs Tino within his tight embrace. Tino closes his eyes, breathing in the familiar scent that he’d spent so many passionate nights with.

“Look how finely you’ve grown, Finlandiya. How beautiful” Ivan whispers against his hair. It feels just like their better times. Of simple happiness and trust. Of no politics or oppression between them. It’s like he’s holding in his arms again the Ivan he used to cherish.

He could have never expected in that moment the sudden, sharp ache, piercing his stomach. Grunting in pain, Tino looks down. Ivan's hand is between them, blood flowing on it as he holds the knife that’s stabbing his abdomen. His breaths come out in sharp gasps as he looks up at the violet eyes. The gaze in them is as rueful and affectionate as before, but their color is in a different shade now. Almost red.

“I gave you a rare gift” Ivan says he looks down at him. His other hand rises, caressing Tino's cheek. “I let you see me. I let you know  _ my heart _ ”

The Finn stares at him eyes wide, nearly whimpering as the pain intensifies. He has to rise his hands to grab on Ivan’s arms, to keep himself from falling. His whole body shakes with the shock.

“But you didn’t care to keep it” the hand holding the knife moves sideways, tearing open his lower belly. His mouth falls open, a quiet shriek coming from his throat as he’s pierced open. He feels his legs giving out under him.

Ivan doesn’t let him fall. Keeping his arms around the Finn, he lowers him down slowly on his back on the cold ground. He caresses gently the golden hair.

Tino feels cold all over, struggling to breathe as his gasps come out short and painful. His eyes find Ivan’s again, trying to understand  _ just why…? _

“Welcome to nationhood, Tino. Now you will learn what it truly means, standing on your own in this world” Ivan brushes his cheek. “I wish I could have kept on protecting you from it”

The Russian rises then, looking at him for one last time before he turns away, walking away with heavy steps.

There’s snow falling quietly around him as he stares up at the grey blue sky. Distraught people have gathered around him now, he thinks someone is asking him something, but he’s not sure. He can’t make out their words from the white noise. His vision is getting dizzier.

Closing his eyes, Tine gives into oblivion.

The memory is his last of his time as the Grand Duchy of Finland.


	9. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really recommend to listen "Finlandia Hymn" by Sibelius after reading this :')

“Tino! _TINO!_ ” there’s agitated banging on his door. 

Rubbing his eyes, the Finn yawns and stretches himself before getting up. Why on earth had Benjamin come here so damn early? It’s only the day after New Year’s Eve. He was up all night.

The man rushes in the moment he opens the door. He slams the newspaper against his chest.

“What is it?” Tino scowls at his friend. Waking up with a lack of sleep always has him in a bad mood.

“ _ What is it _ he asks… You should know already, being the damn representation of this country and all” Benjamin crosses his arms. “Not much, just that Lenin recognized your independence last night”

It takes a moment for him to progress the information. Eyes widening, Tino looks at the man before he hastily takes the paper, reading the capitalized headline.

_SOVIET RUSSIA HAS RECOGNIZED THE EXISTANCE OF THE INDEPENDENT REPUBLIC OF FINLAND_

An intense joy fills him. This means that now finally, the recognition of his nation can go worldwide and he will truly be seen as a sovereign land.

“I brought the champagne. And _Eetu_ is on his way here” Benjamin grins at him as he takes the battle out of his bag. “Let’s turn on the radio. I bet it’s all they talk about today”

Smiling cheerily, Tino walks towards the machine. 

It’s been a few weeks since his government declared his independence and they've been waiting for recognition from Russia since then.  Since Ivan left him lying in a pool of his blood at the train station in St. Petersburg...  The wound in his stomach has been healing quickly, but it still pains him.

But not any pain or bitter memory can lower his spirits now.

He hears Benjamin humming a familiar tune from the kitchen. It’s the same tune that plays on the radio as he opens it.  An intense feeling surges inside him and Tino finds himself singing along to the tune that feels like all the pride and nature of his people, his very essence and being.

Song of his nation that's at last their own.

  
  


_ Oi Suomi, katso, Sinun päiväs koittaa ... _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to all who've followed my writing this far, especially those angels who've given kudos and comments: thank you for giving me all that fuel and serotonin to keep going!
> 
> Little note from the author:   
> I'm so DONE. I don't know what I expected from 2020, but they certainly were not global pandemic and regressing back to my middle school obsession--so profoundly I'd consume myself in writing story (series) of a country's history in timeline of about thousand years... I don't what madness had me do it, but I'll blame this cursed crazy year.
> 
> I'm proud of going through with it, but at the same time I really find lot of that I don't like about my writing, there's definitely much to be improved (but it's another question will I actually make the effort to do that....).   
> I kind of want to continue the series, to Finland's independent years. I think that's where the real hardship begins for Tino, learning to be his own nation and going through Civil war, WINTER WAR and Continuation war, balancing between USA and Soviet in Cold war... and eventually, how the nation became the Nordic welfare state we know today. But there's also part of me that really doesn't want to write anything at all as this has been so damn tiring.  
> But I know for sure that I need a break... so for rest of the year I'm off to slumber that will definitely not include any writing.
> 
> See you in 2021. Or not... *asconds away*


End file.
